Lies of a Personal Nature
by Amelia Ashworth
Summary: A very Jane Eyre story about a girl that is hired on as an estate manager for a wealthy earl, but she has some dark secrets that are revealed as they find their feelings for each other grow.
1. Chapter 1

The College loomed on the horizon as the sun rose over the lush green valley. The Earl of Lorebury sat back glumly in his plush carriage as it jostled down the dirt road.

"I still don't understand why I actually had to come with you to hire a new Estate Scholar, Wesley," he muttered, staring intently out of the window. Wesley was not only Lorebury's butler, but he was also his greatest and oldest friend. They had grown up together. Each had taken over his father's place upon their deaths.

"Because, Sir," Wesley said with false propriety, "you will have to deal with the new scholar almost on a daily basis! I would prefer if you actually approved of him." Wesley rolled his eyes. Lorebury shook his head and grumpily slumped back into his seat.

"Try to look amiable sir." Wesley laughed as they pulled into the main driveway at the central hall of the college. Lorebury faked a smile as he climbed down and a footman showed him to the room that he would be sequestered in for the next several hours.

"Wesley"

"Yes sir?"

"When we are done, remind me to kill you," Lorebury said in a serious tone.

Wesley chuckled. "Of course sir, it would be my pleasure."

"Any luck sir?" Wesley asked as Lorebury rubbed the back of his neck.

"These men are either extremely smart or they barely know anything. Either way, I would likely kill them because of their arrogance. I can't stand any of them."

"Maybe you just need a break."

Lorebury laughed at Wesley's statement, "You have no idea," he said haggardly.

"Try the rose garden sir, I hear it is fantastic."

Lorebury responded with a despondent sigh, but said nothing.

"Charles, you need to be easier on yourself. It's only been six months." Wesley patted Lorebury's arm, at which he smiled and wandered outside, heading for the rose garden.

Lorebury walked slowly, looking at the various colors of roses: reds, yellows, oranges, but none of it was really amusing him. He stopped in front of a large bush of yellow roses.

"Lovely aren't they sir," Lorebury looked up to find an elderly man, obviously the gardener, looking at him, smiling a crinkled, crooked smile. In turn he couldn't help but smile at the man's open nature.

"Yes, they are quality roses Mr…."

"Silksome sir. Charles Silksome. If I might be bold sir, who are you?"

"Charles Fyrmont, Earl of Lorebury," he said matter of factly.

"Lor' Mr. Fyrmont. No need to wield such mighty standings over a lowly gardener," Mr. Silksome laughed, "What brings you to Strains sir?" Silksome proceeded to snip at some roses with his shears.

"Our Estate Scholar died. I need to hire a new one." Suddenly Mr. Silksome had his full attention on Fyrmont.

"You be needing a scholar?"

"Well yes, that what I just-"

"Please sir, you have to hire my daughter. Please sir, it isn't safe for her here anymore."

"Your daughter?"

"Sir I promise you, she is smarter than any man here, she will do well sir I swear."

Fyrmont raised an eyebrow and examined Mr. Silksome's face. Worry lines had dug their way into his features. Fyrmont broke.

"I can give her an interview, but I can't promise anything."

Silksome's face lit up. "Oh thank you sir! I'll get her now. You won't regret it sir!" he beamed as he hurried to go find his daughter. Fyrmont shook his head. He felt as though he would regret something from meeting this gardener's daughter, but was irritated when he couldn't decipher why.

Fyrmont sat dozing in the small office the college had given him for the interviews. The late afternoon sun shone in through the blue and red stained glass windows. His dark hair hung limply in his face as he slept. A knock at the door startled him awake and Wesley poked his head in.

"A girl, Miss Silksome, is here. She claims she has an interview." Fyrmont blinked at Wesley before jumping up.

"Oh right! Yes, show her in please," he said fidgeting with his cravat. Wesley shook his head, left, and then re-entered with Miss Silksome. She did not curtsy as a woman should have, and she did not shake his hand as all the other scholars had. She merely stood there looking at him with large green eyes set in a pale face. Fyrmont found himself staring, only realizing what she was waiting for when one of her eyebrows quirked upward, and she shot him an incredulous look.

"Oh! Sorry, please do sit down Miss Silksome," He waited until she was seated before sitting himself.

"So, Miss Silksome, what are your qualifications? And other than your father basically begging me to, why should I take you on?" Fyrmont sat back, looking at a rather large folder containing the girl's school records. He almost jumped when she stood up abruptly.

"Forgive me, Mr. Fyrmont. I did not realize this was a pity interview. I will go, I shan't waste your time," Her voice was soft but stern, like a school marm. Fyrmont stood, motioning for the chair.

"Please, Miss Silksome, please sit. I will still interview you. You look to be quite accomplished here, and this is not because of pity that I agreed to interview you," Mr. Fyrmont asserted. She looked him up and down before again raising her eyebrow and sitting back down.

"Very well….As to my qualifications, I've been the top of my class in everything, I can speak French and Spanish, I play piano and trumpet fairly well and I would like to think I'm a pleasant person but that is my own opinion I suppose," she said matter of factly. Mr. Fyrmont scowled briefly, and before standing adjusted his vest and cravat.

"I will not waste anymore of your time. I will look over your…." He hefted up the heavy portfolio, "Files and I will get back to you before Friday." Miss. Silksome stood, adjusting her flowing green silk dress.

"Don't toy with me sir. It is obvious that you, or anyone else for that matter, will not hire me. I am a woman in a man's world. Just be honest with me sir. You will not hire me will you?" she smiled sadly.

"I cannot promise anything, but I will consider you. On that I give you my word." Mr. Fyrmont led her to the door. As she left, she bowed her head slightly.

Wesley entered shortly after and smiled knowingly at his friend. "You liked her. Admit it, you did!" he laughed. Mr. Fyrmont shook his head before looking up at Wesley.

"She was well qualified it is true, and she did seem rather pleasant. I still have others to consider though," He added rather as an afterthought. Wesley shook his head before leaving quietly. Fyrmont walked over to the stain glass window, watching as the distorted figure of Miss Silksome glided over the grounds. Her proud façade had slipped, and she now walked with her head down, avoiding the looks that all the male scholars were shooting angrily at her. Again Mr. Fyrmont scowled.

"Look boys! It's little Rose!" a dog faced boy sneered as he and his friends came across Miss Silksome sitting on a bench in the gardens. Rose closed the book she had been reading, stood smoothing out her pale blue dress, and looked at the four boys.

"What do you want Mr. Burchly?" she sighed. The boys began to close in and circle her.

"I heard you got an interview with that Lorebury chap. So did I. What made you think he would hire you? You'll never be hired little girl," Burchly taunted. Rose looked at him blandly.

"If I am a little girl, then you are but an infant." With this comment, Burchly lunged forward, grasping Rose's arm, and pulled her closer than what would ever be appropriate.

"You little twit, you have no right to insult me!"

"Get off me!"

"What's going on here?" A deep, throaty voice spoke. Burchly practically flung himself away as he saw that the voice emanated from Mr. Fyrmont.

"Nothing sir, just talking to little Rose here," he said in a complacent tone. Mr. Fyrmont glanced between the two, taking in Miss Silksome's pale face.

"I would inform you, Mr. Burchly, that I will not be hiring cads like you," He held out his hand to Miss Silksome, "You, however, Miss Silksome, are hired." She looked at him in astonishment as she gingerly took his hand, allowing him to lead her away.

"Are you alright Miss?" Mr. Fyrmont asked tenderly. Her face was still pale and she was constantly fixing her skirts.

"Thank you Sir," she said softly.

"I see why your father wanted you to leave."

"Yes. Well, while I appreciate the look on that cad's face, I don't appreciate you lying that you hired me," she laughed slightly. Mr. Fyrmont stopped walking, and turned to face her.

"Miss Silksome. I was not lying. You are hired. We leave tomorrow in fact." Mr. Fyrmont laughed at her shocked expression, and left her to pack.

"I want you to stay outside her door Wesley," Fyrmont muttered, with his hand on his chin.

"Why sir?"

"I fear the horrible men I saved her from earlier might try something. The leader of them was not too happy." Mr. Fyrmont was writing a letter to the Dean of the college, informing him of his student's behavior to the lady.

"Yes sir," Wesley made to leave.

"If anything does happen, come and get me. We will leave immediately if only for her safety."

"Why does it matter so much to you sir?"

"Why shouldn't it! Wesley, those boys were going to do something terrible to her! She may be a scholar, but she is still a respectable woman!" Fyrmont began to shout. Wesley held up his hands.

"Of course sir. I'll be off then." So Wesley spent the rest of the night keeping an eye out for Burchly and his despicable band of friends.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Charles Fyrmont stared out of the carriage window, bored. Miss Silksome sat across from him, next to Wesley, with a book in her hands.

"How can you read all the time?" Wesley inquired. Rose smiled slightly before closing the novel.

"Well I can't expect that you would want to enter into conversation with me. I find I am quite dull, Wes- I mean Mr. Carter." Mr. Fyrmont fidgeted grumpily.

"Why should we not want to converse Miss Silksome? You are a new person to us. I for one, don't know about Wesley here, but I would like to at least know something about you other than your name and that you read." he almost snapped. Miss Silksome looked slightly taken aback.

"I'm sorry Sir, if I upset you. I will gladly answer any question you put forth," she quickly replied. Mr. Fyrmont ran his hand over his eyes, groggy and tired.

"I'm sorry Miss Silksome, I am tired and agitated. Please do tell us about yourself."

"I'm afraid I don't know what would interest you sir. I fear that I would prattle on and say nothing useful." She studied the cover of her book intently. Fyrmont chuckled.

"You are a scholar through and through, aren't you? Alright then, you said you played. What is your favorite piece of music?"

"Oh. Um," she stuttered, "I hardly know. I only know those songs of which have come from my own head. I have never heard any of the pieces by the masters."

"Really? Well, that is surprising. Well then, what is yo- oh look! There's Lorebury."

Out of a light morning mist and from behind a green, tree laden hill appeared a massive specter of a house. The dark stone turrets rose ominously in the light, while hundreds of glassed windows reflected the sun. Lush gardens of tulips and roses littered the grounds and a magnificent fountain with sculpted angels graced the front of the mansion.

"It's beautiful," she stared out of the window, "Never have I seen such a mansion." Mr. Fyrmont smiled as his new employee was in awe of his estate. Once they were at the main door, Mr. Fyrmont helped Miss Silksome out of the carriage, noticing for the first time that her hands were spotted with ink.

"Wesley, please show Miss Silksome to her quarters,"

"Yes, Sir." Wesley picked up the one trunk that Miss Silksome had brought.

"And Miss Silksome," Fyrmont called as they began to turn down a hallway. She turned back. "I would have you join me in my study for dinner this evening to acquaint you with the estate and give you the previous scholar's books." Rose bowed her head, and then followed Wesley, who was currently giving Fyrmont a look that conveyed surprise and a slight hint of mocking.

Rose walked into her new room. It was just off of the massive library. It was plain and barren, but it suited her. Wesley set her trunk down at the foot of the small bed.

"Thank you Mr. Carter." She said as he left.

"Please ma'am, just Wesley will do," he smiled as he shut the door. Rose walked over to her small window and beheld the luscious rose garden.

"Oh mother," she sighed quietly, "Why couldn't I have been normal." She sat down on the thin mattress and looked about the room. A dusty rug lay on the floor, tattered with holes, dyed with what was probably once a deep red. A wardrobe was nestled into the corner and an old desk sat in front of the door. She stood and opened her trunk. She swiftly hung up her three dresses then began to stack her books on the desk. When she was finished, she sunk into the cushioned chair at the desk. The book she had picked up, paired with the sunlight that warmed her, induced her into sleep with her book still in hand.

Rose awoke to laughing. She blinked and cleared her vision to find Wesley in the doorway.

"You've been here but a few hours and you're already bored into sleep!" Rose tried to reply but it all came out in a jumbled mess. Wesley laughed again.

"Really now? I think that has probably been the most interesting thing a lovely woman has said to me," He smiled. Rose blushed and put her face in her hand.

"What do you want Wesley?" she asked with a drowsy smile.

"It's time for dinner Miss Silksome with Mr. Fyrmont." He indicated for her to leave her room. She stared at him blankly, then started.

"Oh! right right," she fiddled with her skirts again. "And Wesley, I think, seeing as I just made myself a babbling fool, and I have a feeling we will be good friends, please call me Rose." She blinked heavily and then exited, Wesley closing the door behind her.

"So then Miss Rose, how does your room suit you? If I had known we would be hiring a woman I would have made the room more suitable."

"Oh don't fuss about it Wesley. It suits me just fine. " she smiled as they reached Mr. Fyrmont's study.

"Now don't you worry. Mr. Fyrmont's a good man. And you seem to know your business. You'll be fine!" Wesley assured her as he noticed she wore an uneasy smile. She beamed at his words and confidently entered the study. Mr. Fyrmont stood upon her entering.

"Right so Miss Silksome, I have here what our former scholar had on the estate's affairs and such. I don't understand a bit of it but I'm sure you will get it." He gestured for her to sit. She took a seat in front of the large desk he stood at. Two plates heaped with food sat there warming the wood. Rose raised her eyebrow in that customary little quirk.

"I told you there would be dinner Miss Silksome," he reminded her. He pulled his chair up to the desk, and began eating. Rose lightly picked up one of the account books and opened it, laying it open on the desk. Charles watched with a bemused smile as she absent-mindedly ate the meal in front of her. He had to withhold an ungentlemanly amount of laughter as she continued to read, but reached for her water glass. Her hand was about six inches from where it actually was. He chuckled quietly as he grabbed her wrist and directed it to the glass. At the contact, her green eyes shot up from the book, and she stopped mid-bite. Her eyes flicked back and forth between his face and his hand on her wrist. He hid a smile as he released her. Her face flushed with a deep red as she realized what he had been doing.

"That is not fair sir," she spoke quietly. Charles scowled.

"What do you mean?"

"Here I am, planning how to increase your crop production within months," she tried desperately to hide an unladylike smirk, "and you humiliate me." Mr. Fyrmont looked stunned. He hadn't realized that that was how she would feel about his action. He began to stutter profusely.

"Your former scholar seemed to have no clue how to properly run your estate. There is about 5,000 pounds that could be gained simply by increasing the amount of seed you plant." She continued as though her employer were not making a fool of himself. He thanked her silently for relieving him of his embarrassment. "Now sir, I think it would be appropriate to talk about my salary." she muttered grudgingly.

"What? Is the original salary for the scholar not enough?" Charles almost choked on his water.

" What? No! I was going to say you paid him far too much. 20 pounds a year will be perfectly sufficient! The 70 you were paying is absolutely ridiculous!" She quickly made clearer her statement. Charles gave her a strange look. She glanced around awkwardly.

"What?"

"You are a strange woman Miss Silksome." She looked at him, quite confused, before standing and gathering the mound of books into her arms.

"If you'll excuse me sir, I will continue going over these in my own room," She offered a quick smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Please," Charles quickly stood, moving around the desk, "let me help." He reached out his arms to relieve her of some of the books. She took a calculated step backwards.

"I am fine sir, I can manage." She turned from him, carefully making her way to the door. He rushed ahead of her, opening and holding the door for her. She gave a slight head nod before heading down the hall. Charles watched as Wesley ran up the stairs to meet her.

"Please allow me to help you Miss Rose," he smiled, holding out his arms to receive her burden. She smiled and relinquished the books into his waiting arms. Charles scowled profusely.

"Thank you Wesley, I'm afraid my arms will be quite bruised with their weight." She laughed lightly. Charles watched from his study's doorway as his best friend and his new employee laughed and smiled as they joked. Charles felt an unfamiliar pang in his stomach. He closed the door and flopped into his chair. His thoughts wandered and he found himself staring at the water glass.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Three months and you've already increased my income by 2000 pounds," Charles said almost grudgingly. Rose Silksome sat demurely across from him. He could beat himself for how long he had stared when he waltzed into the library, only to find Miss Silksome walking out of her room with riding clothes on. She had the strangest habit of wearing fitted riding trousers so that she could ride seated like a man. She hadn't even noticed him and she had climbed one of the ladders to retrieve a book from a high shelf, reading it for almost five minutes on the ladder before even noticing him.

"Is that a problem sir?" she asked, tilting her head slightly at his tone. He had completely forgotten what he had come to stay and now had to make pointless conversation to keep her seated where she was.

"What?" Her words brought him out of his silent reverie. She shot him an irritated glance.

"I have increased your income. Is that a problem?" She restrained from snapping, "Because if it isn't I would really like to ride over to town while they are still offering a lagniappe with purchase of Dante's poetry." He sat for a moment, his brow creased in frustration. He emitted a low growl before standing.

"No. Go on," he waved at the door briefly, "go buy your precious book." He inwardly chastised himself. First he had sought her out to ask a serious question, only to be distracted by something he had seen often of late. Then to top it off, he had made a fool of himself by trying to engage her in conversation to keep her from leaving! Even in that he had failed!

As she strode out of the library, riding crop in hand, Charles paced in a languid manner. His inner musings had left him bewildered and bereft of logical thought.

Wesley met Rose as she was walking towards the stable doors.

"Did you tell him?" He said as he passed her, heading off to find his master and friend.

"No I did not." Her reply was terse and cold. She disappeared into the stables, only to emerge on a black mare. Her dark hair was pulled back simply, and without the curls that were all the style in London.

"He is your master Miss Rose. You really should tell him, he is a very understanding man!" Wesley practically pleaded with her. She reigned in her horse and sighed heavily.

"Wesley," She ran a hand down her face, "No one can know the truth, especially not Mr. Fyrmont. He might understand, but there is no way I can trust him with this." With that, she urged her horse onward, towards the sprawling town in the distance.

"If he can't be trusted, then why did you trust me?" Wesley called after her.

"I didn't remember? You went rifling through my papers!" These were her last words as she disappeared behind the gentle slope of a hill.

"Calm down Charles! I'm sure she is fine!" Wesley shouted at his friend, who was currently pacing furiously. Rose had left the day before and not returned.

"It can't take this long to go buy a book Wesley!" Charles snapped.

"It is raining in sheets Charles! She might have gotten stuck; she could be staying in town. There is nothing to say that something has happened to her." Wesley tried to mollify him. Charles continued to pace, seemingly intent on wearing a rut into the ornate rug on the floor.

"Do you think she is meeting someone? This is the first time she has actually left the estate in the three months she has been here. But who would she meet?" Charles plopped into the main stair case, "Oh this is ridiculous." Wesley shook his head, chuckling slightly.

"If you would kindly be quiet and take a glance out these marvelous windows that your marvelous friend spent all day cleaning, you will see a certain lady returning, quite drenched, on a horse," Wesley watched, amused, as Charles bolted down one of the hallways to the side door, headed directly to the stables.

Charles waited impatiently as the shlopping of the mares hoofs in the thick mud drew closer. He had dismissed the stable boy, as he preferred not to scold one person in front of another. At last she came in, leading her horse into one of the empty stalls.

"Where have YOU BEEN!?" Charles bellowed without truly meaning to. To his shame, Rose jumped and put herself on the other side of the slightly startled horse.

"In town." She whispered her face paling. Charles ran his fingers through his hair, turning away to try and compose himself.

"You were gone for a day and a half. No word, no message. " He struggled to get the words out without shouting again. He felt his hands shaking as he clenched them at his sides. When he turned to face her again, she had come back around from the side of the horse. She was wringing the edge of the riding habit that she now wore instead of the typical fitted trousers in her hands. She was decidedly pale and shivering.

"I'm sorry sir. I did not realize that I needed to inform you of my every decision and my exact whereabouts." To anyone else, this would have sounded like an apology a servant would provide in answer to their master. But the icy tone edged in next to barely concealed sarcasm told Charles that she was none to happy about his concern for her wellbeing, strange as it was.

"Well why were you gone for so long? I can't abide my employees being truant in their duties," Charles quickly spat out, his patience with the woman wearing thin. First the attention directed as his friend, her allowing Wesley to assist her with anything, and the fact she laughed brightly when Wesley was around, while barely twitching a smile in Charles' direction, and now this mysterious absence, it was all driving him mad.

"I ordered this riding habit weeks ago, with my first payment, and was told it would be ready yesterday. There had been an issue so rather than coming back here then returning today, I stayed on at the inn. I would have been back earlier but they main road is now flooded with the torrential rain, so I had to take the path through the hills. Now if you'll excuse me sir, I wish to go dry off and get warm." She pushed passed him, brushing past his shoulder as she headed for the door. Without thought, he grasped her upper arm and spun her around.

"I'll have some broth sent to your room. I can't have you catching cold," He said gently after seeing the fear enter her eyes.

"Thank you sir," She whispered, pulling herself from his grip before hurrying through a side door into the house.

"I told you that it was nothing," Wesley leaned in the open door of the stables, his blonde hair glowing softly in the torchlight. Charles ran his hand through his hair once more before practically collapsing onto the ground of the stable.

"I don't know what has come over me lately Wes. That woman just infuriates me and yet I always have this urge to do something that will make her smile! She is so dower and withdrawn around me! Yet around you she gives smiles and laughs freely. She is light and unburdened until the moment she sees me, then she is back to being straight faced and reserved." Charles sighed.

"Have you ever considered you might have feelings for the girl? I've never heard you shout at anyone, much less a lady, like you did at her. Maybe it's more than just the obligation between a servant and a master that makes you notice her?" Wesley slid down the wall to sit next to him. Charles began stuttering, trying to find cause and proof that would help him to deny the allegation put forth. Wesley just laughed.

"Maybe you need to spend a little time thinking about it Charles. What you find on introspection might surprise you." With that Wesley disappeared into the house also. A few minutes later, Charles followed.

"He is infuriating Wesley! Who does he think he is telling me where and when I can go! I am my own person! I only need him to get the money to provide for myself! What right has he to scold me like I am a child!? He cannot be much older than I!" Rose shouted as she paced in the library. Wesley lounged in an arm chair, watching with a bemused grin and she flew about in a fury. Her dark purple dress contrasted her pale skin and threw small glances of light off the fireplace.

"He is your employer? He pays your salary? He is technically the person who would step in as your guardian should the need arise? He has plenty of reason to be concerned. Concern is what he is displaying Miss Rose, not some twisted tyrannical control complex or whatever you spouted out earlier." Wesley chuckled. The contrast between his two friends was amusing. Only minutes before, Charles had said that the woman who now stood, shouting in fury before him, was quiet and reserved. She fumed that he was just trying to control everyone on his estate and held no true concern for anyone, when he was concerned about her safety and what might have happened to her for 40 hours of the 48 that she was gone. This made is all the more amusing to him.

"Yes of course! That makes perfect sense!" Her reply dripped with sarcasm. She stomped over to her desk chair and sunk into it.

"Have you ever thought that maybe this anger you feel is just fear that you might feel something more for him? You have spent quite a bit of time with him over the last couple of months. Maybe you have developed feelings that stem deeper than just the respect of an employee towards an employer?"

"That can't be it. It can't be." She looked at him with weary eyes and a haggard voice.

"Why not? It isn't a crime to have feelings for people."

"I can't go through that again. I still haven't recovered from the first time." The haunted look in her eyes told him that the subject was closed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Self-reflection had never been one of Charles Fyrmont's strong suits, and had never liked having to look on past actions to determine how her felt at the present. It made no sense to his logical mind. Why look on how you reacted to something to glean information on how you feel at a completely different moment? But this was exactly what he was doing, upon Wesley's recommendation, to see if he really did feel something more than responsibility for Miss Rose Silksome. He had to admit there was something else there.

He reflected on memories of the last three months, wondering if that was truly enough time to develop the kind emotions being suggested by his friend. As he sifted through these memories, he paced and wandered around his study, idly grazing his fingertips over the dusty volumes that permeated his under used bookshelves. Hours passed, and it was late in the night. All the lamps in the house had been doused, every soul was in bed, and one memory kept surfacing, pushing its way through the mire of recollection to surface at the forefront.

_Soft sunlight fell on her dark hair as we rode over the grounds. She was showing me the improvements being made on one of the smaller farms on the north edge of my estate. It took half the day to get there. We talked amicably about literature and music till we reached the north gate of the farm, where we found men rushing about, between a well and the barn. A small fire had started and was quickly growing to engulf the entire structure, or would have, had Rose not been there. She quickly took charge, telling half of the men to continue with the water while the other half doused blankets and beat at the flames to smother them. _

_ The entire barn was saved and the only damage was six or seven hay bales, which she offered to provide the reimbursement of their cost out of her own pocket. The family respectfully declined, saying the only payment they needed was to provide her with a good meal. She smiled so brightly and seemed so at ease among my tenants, who had completely overlooked myself because of Rose. I later found out that she had gone to one of the bordering farms and bought 8 bales of hay, and snuck them into the family's barn late one night, all by herself. She had come in that night quite late with hay sticking out of her usually carefully managed hair. Her cheeks were flushed from the exercise and her nose was red from the cold of the night. I wondered what sort of woman was this? What sort of woman would give up her own wages to help her master's tenants? Most would not trouble themselves with farmers, let alone habitually eat Sunday dinner with them from then on, without ever telling them the kindness which she had done._

He played this memory over and over through the course of the ensuing days. Each time he thought it over, a strange feeling swelled within his chest, filling him with a warmth he had felt only once before. It began as a small seedling, which blossomed into a raging fire. He recognized that he did indeed feel something. He longed to make her smile, even if only for a moment. He sought out her company, often making up false reasons for speaking with her. He hadn't even noticed that he was doing, didn't realize what his motives were. It may not be the strongest of affections yet, but Charles could not deny that he was well on his way to being completely in love with Rose Silksome.

Late into the night, for perhaps the sixth night in a row, sequestered in the library, Rose also paced. Her mind was not on tender feelings, or what she might feel for Charles Fyrmont, but on the dark secrets of the past and why they insisted on invading her now pleasant life. She paced furiously in front of the bookshelves, running her fingers along the smooth, clean spines, trying to glean some form of comfort from the volumes.

"It can't happen again. I won't let it. Curses Rose! And you thought becoming a scholar would ward all men off but no!" She scolded herself, clenching her fists at her side, wrinkling the silky blue fabric of her skirts. Her hair hung loose, its masses starting to coil into ringlets from the rain water, gaining a slight red hue in its dampness. After a few minutes she growled in frustration and flounced over to desk chair, plopping heavily into its cushions. She sat with her fist pressed to her lips as her eyes clouded over with dark memories.

_The night was dark and a slight drizzle fell steadily into the streets. I was young and restless, always wanting to go somewhere else, BE someone else. The responsibility was too much for me back then. Heavens, what I would give for it now. I had just come from the opera, the troupe had just finished a rather dull rendition of some Italian piece that was apparently all the rage in Paris. I had sat in my family's box, participating in what everyone used the opera for. Looking for a potential husband. That was my only way out, or at least that was the only way my young mind would see. Ha young. It was but three years ago. _

_ I waited with my chaperone on the pavement beneath the awning of the opera house, awaiting the arrival of the carriage. When at last it was drawn parallel to the doors, I hesitated. My dress was new and I did not wish for it to be ruined by the down pour. As if by magic, an umbrella appeared overhead held in the gloved hand of a gentleman. I had never seen anyone quite like him. He had the smooth, dark complexion of a Spaniard, with a long ponytail of raven hair pulled pack elegantly. He was tall and trim, but he held an air of power that I had seldom felt in anyone but my father._

_ "It would be a shame to spoil such a beauty," He had only a slight accent, but it added a hypnotizing lilt to his speech. I thought nothing of it, figuring he meant my dress._

_ "Indeed. Especially since I only received it from my seamstress this afternoon." I smiled, but his eyes darkened, his voice became a soft, husky melody beneath the pattering of the rain. _

_ "I did not mean the dress my lady," He practically whispered as he handed me up into the carriage. I was disappointed, knowing I would probably never see the man again. Upon returning home I cultured the fantasy that he would find me, and call on me, eventually leading to courtship, and then my escape. I imagined him as my own personal Apollo, the sun in my dark world. What a fool I was. Little did I know he would ruin what small amount of peace I actually had._

With what might have been called a roar, Rose shoved herself up from the desk. This felt ridiculous to her. It was the past. There was no possible way that it could possibly come back to haunt her, not in truth.

Rose was yanked out of her contemplation by the library door being thrown open. She jumped, her arms flying out to a shelf to steady her. It was Charles. Rose scowled and crossed her arms over her abdomen.

"Have you come to scold me more? Fire me? Suspend me?" She rolled her eyes as he merely shook his head. Despite the force with which the door was flung open, he stood meekly, his shoulders bent almost as if in defeat.

"Wesley has wisely suggested that I reflect why I responded as I did last Thursday. It is not like me to shout, or reply as I did to you. With everyone before you I have let them do what they wish on their free time, never before have I worried so during an absence. According to Wesley, he has never seen me so distraught before. I have reflected and I have come to the realization that I- "

"Don't you even dare. Don't say it because I do not want to hear it." Rose shook her head even as the blood drained from her face. She now clenched the edge of the desk, her knuckles turning white. Charles looked at her in confusion. He had figured she probably didn't feel the same way, but he didn't figure that she would respond to his declaration so…..negatively. He had prepared himself to remain calm in the face of her sure rejection, but he had no idea that she would appear so disgusted by the prospect.

"Why have you responded with such abhorrence?" He kept his voice quiet, attempting to keep the reins on his boiling emotions from slipping away.

"I cannot hear it sir. I refuse to have my life ruined." She sounded close to tears, and yet Charles did not register the fact.

"Is the idea of me having feelings for you that run deeper than appreciation that you have increased my income so revolting to you!? Am I really such a monster? I have been pleasant and accommodating to you since you came here excepting that one night! Are you so fickle that your opinion is swayed so easily!? If that is the case then I thank you, for I do not want to harbor affection for a capricious woman!" His voice rose well above the level he had set for himself. He had purposely waited the span of a few days to allow his temper to cool, so he could speak with her reasonably. Her vehemence had startled him however, and he had not been prepared.

"Capricious! Capricious?! How am I the one that is capricious! I have always held you in good esteem! You yelling at me for failing to inform you of my whereabouts could not possibly change my opinion! And yet here you are, calling me capricious when you yourself have abruptly decided that I am fickle and so pathetic that a scolding would send me to what? Tears? It would take much more than you being angry with me to change anything!" She shouted right back at him, her hands flying about in frustration. Charles clutched his hands to his jacket to keep them from flying about in a similar fashion. He was of the upper class. He would be the one to take things back into a civil setting.

"Miss Silksome," He said, almost as if he was speaking to a child, "I apologize for suggesting such. I realize now that it was foolish to express my feelings, as they must be a mistake. I only hope that Wesley will not receive the rebuttal that I have just witnessed." Rose's face turned ashen, her hands shaking as she smoothed the front of her skirt, as was her nervous tendency.

"W-Wesley? What um. What do you mean?" Her voice lowered to a choked whisper.

"Obviously your affections lie with him. You are on a first name basis after all. You obviously enjoy his company, as I always see you smiling when he is around." Charles attempted to mask his disappointment, but failed miserably.

"Is that why you think I have responded as I have? I assure you that it is not." Her voice had regained some of its strength, but she still shook. She slowly lowered herself into a chair. With an elbow propped up on the desk, and her head in her hand, she turned weary eyes on Charles.

"Are you alright?" His concern drove pain into her heart.

"I can't explain Ch-Sir. It is very important that I do not, in fact." She sounded bone tired, and weary of the world. She slid her hands over her still damp hair, pushing its coils back, and knotting her fingers in it. She let out a heavy sigh.

"You can trust me Rose," Charles chanced her Christian name, either she didn't mind, or she didn't noticed. She stood and turned away from him.

"I know. I know I can, but it is more for my own self that I do not tell you. Wesley wouldn't even know if he hadn't gone snooping in my books." A sarcastic snort and a shaking of her head told Charles she was frustrated that anyone knew.

"You need sleep. I will be leaving tomorrow, for London, if you remember. We will discuss this more when I return." He left, as to give her no time to argue with him. He would have answers.

"Wesley!" The call came from the open doors of the house, and Rose came flying out in a dark purple dress, "Has he already left?" She breathed heavily, and Wesley guessed that she had run around the whole house searching for his master and friend.

"He left early this morning. Said something about avoiding an awkward goodbye. " Rose's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"You were planning on telling him weren't you Miss Rose?" Wesley asked sotto voce. She looked up at him with large, woeful eyes and answered him with the slight nod of her head. A heavy sigh released itself from her, the foggy tendrils of her breath escaping into the chilled morning air.

"I will just have to tell him when he returns. Depending on how he reacts I may just allow myself some feelings. Maybe," She smiled sadly as she entered the house once more.

Some miles away now, Charles began making plans to look into the past of Rose Silksome, as he was determined that he would have answers, if not from her then he would find them on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"So you have been in London close to a month now Charles is it how you remember from our days at university?" Jacob Eames, the one who had invited him to his estate in London, poured himself a glass of brandy before sitting in the armchair across from Charles. Charles admired that his friend had come so far in the world. During their school days Jacob had barely scraped by on tuition, but since then he had started a shipping business and was now one of the wealthiest men in London. He still held onto certain mannerisms from the days when he ran with a poor crowd.

"It hasn't been that long Jacob. London is very much the same add or subtract a few businesses." Charles swirled his own brandy as he lounged in the sitting room, next to the large roaring fire. He responded to everything his friend asked with a distracted, almost bored tone.

"Are you sure you're alright mate? You seem distracted." Jacob could always tell when something was amiss. Charles hazarded a sketchy smile. He stared into the fire as he searched for a way to dismiss his mood, but could think of nothing but the truth.

"Maybe later. Don't we have an engagement tonight? Isn't that why I'm here?" He managed at least a half-hearted laugh as he stood to usher Jacob out into the ballroom. As they reached the doors, the mull of conversation told them that the masses were already within. Jacob's fiancé had offered her family's home as a place for the engagement party, so he hadn't had to act as host. He had confided in Charles that he still did not feel that he had enough knowledge to organize these type of events, and that his future in-laws were most gracious in providing that service for him.

As the footman opened the door into the ballroom, the soft murmur of speech became a roar as the doors swung open. Women in extravagant gowns spun with men in finely tailored suits in the center of the room. The golden splendor was almost overwhelming to Charles, who had spent a great deal of time the last couple of weeks brooding in darkened studies or sitting rooms.

"Jacob!" A lovely woman, with a warm smile framed with auburn ringlets and inviting brown eyes waved over at her fiancé. Jacob went to her immediately, clasping her gloved hands in his own, and began to speak in a low tone. Charles lingered a few feet behind, waiting to be introduced. After a smile in his direction, he stepped forward.

"Charles, this is the lovely Miss Vivian Haewood, my soon-to-be wife." Jacob spoke with great pride, as Vivian and Charles greeted each other with the expected pleasantries. Charles mentally congratulated his friend on his choice of wife. She was open and pleasant, she spoke with kindness and she smiled freely. Such a contrast to the woman that plagued his own mind.

"Mr. Fyrmont, this is my sister Elaine Haewood, Elaine, Charles Fyrmont," Vivian ripped Charles from his thoughts. He turned to face the woman being introduced and completely froze. She was an absolute angel. Soft blonde hair curled around her rosy face and pink full lips. Her eyes shone with an inner light that was memorizing, and her smile was inviting and warm. They stared at each other before awkwardly returning pleasantries.

"Mr. Fyrmont, how are you enjoying London?" Her voice was rich and smooth as she asked.

"I find it is the same as when I was last here, although I have found that the company has improved," Charles shocked himself. He was not prone to such open flirtation, but with her demure smile and flushed cheeks as an answer, he knew that tonight he would most likely be an unmitigated flirt.

"London is grand, but I have always longed to spend time in the country, to have open fields and clean air," The conversation was continued throughout the night, often conducted while dancing. In the end it was decided that after his trip in London was through, that a party of them would travel and spend time at Lorebury. The night passed in a blur and Charles found that he had thoroughly enjoyed the three dances he had been partnered with Elaine.

Later that night, as he and Jacob lounged in Jacobs study, they regaled each other with the tales of what had transpired that evening.

"I see you took a particular shine to Vivian's sister, she ripped you out of your glum mood quicker than I've seen anyone do before. Say, you never did tell me what caused that great black cloud above your head." Jacob subtly hinted through the haze of liquor, Charles rubbed as the slight bit of stubble he could feel on his face, put out about the fact that he himself was not deep in the drink. He supposed that there was no better time to tell his friend, as he would most likely forget by morning.

"There is….was…a lady back at Lorebury. It was nothing really. I suppose I had only begun to feel anything for her, but it felt," he paused, swirling his hands around as if doing so would help him explain, "different. She is intelligent and beautiful, but not in the way the Miss Haewoods are. But she is very withdrawn and refused to explain why. She irked me and even caused me to lose my temper, which you of all people know is nearly impossible. I came to London to escape her and how she makes me feel. Miss Elaine made me forget her completely though." Charles was alarmed to look up and see his friend staring at him, looking quite sober. He had his fingers entwined and he leaned over, completely engagedin what had been said.

"Charles. If a woman makes you lose your temper, it is most definitely not nothing. No woman infuriates me more than Vivian. This sounds insane, but no woman can truly make you happy unless she is fully capable of making you miserable."

"You sobered up depressingly quickly," Charles muttered, "I feel as though I can't trust her though! She tells me nothing of herself, and always looks at me with these," He gestured awkwardly at his eyes, "They are positively piercing Jacob." He slumped in his chair. He had spoken of Rose with no one but Wesley, but he had never set his eye on anyone and was as such, absolutely no help.

"How did you leave her?" Jacob raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"No! Don't do that Jacob please! She does that when she is thinking!" Charles wailed helplessly as the memories that had been pushed away all evening came flooding back.

"Charles!" Jacob snapped sternly, "You obviously feel for this woman seeing as I've never seen you react thus to a simply gesture. I really must meet her for myself." Jacob smiled conspiratorially. Charles ran his fingers through his hair.

"You can meet her when you and the Haewoods join me at Lorebury, but by then I hope to have completely forgotten her."

"I can't seem to forget him Wesley! I tried to do figures for the amount of seed the farms would be planting and I could only think of him! He has been away four months and I can't direct my thoughts away from him!" Rose fumed as she groomed her horse. A generous amount of money had recently found its way to her, she assumed it was payment from Charles, and so had bought several new dresses, even purchasing one of a bright teal with a lace overlay, and she now wore a vibrant blue riding habit.

"Well I heard the shouting the night before he left, does it really surprise you he has stayed away so long? Charles does not express himself easily you know, it can't have been easy to say what he did."

Rose slid down the stable wall unto a stool, tearing her hair free from its various pins and massaging her scalp.

"I've decided to tell him Wesley. I can have no peace until I do. I just wish he would return so that I might do so." She shot Wesley a glare when her chuckled. "What? You find my discomfort humorous?"

"No, but you obviously weren't listening this morning when I read the post to you. Charles is to return next week, with a large party of guests in tow," Wesley leaned up against the doorway, laughing as Rose jumped up, nearly hitting a hanging lamp with her forehead. She shot a flustered glare at him before hurrying into the house. Once inside, she changed into a new purple dress and sat at her desk in the library, with paper and pens placed before her. She felt it would be easier to write what she needed to explain, especially seeing as in a weeks' time the house would be in a great state of commotion. She sat, staring into space, trying to form the proper words to explain her plight. At last they came to her, as a brief strike of inspiration. The only sound in the grandiose library was the scratching of her pen. Before she knew it, she had penned out the whole situation, simply and with no opinion, only the facts written in it. After folding the pages and placing them in an envelope, she was prepared to write _Mr. Fyrmont but_ hesitated, finally decided that she could risk an informal_ Charles _after writing as frankly as she had.

Sitting back in the chair, she sighed as she ran her hands through her hair, her fingers getting caught in the unruly curls. She proceeded to absentmindedly stare out the window, wondering what the next week or two would bring.

The next week brought Elaine Haewood. And a mass of other people. Upon introduction, she learned that the two that stared at each other with longing gazes were Jacob Eames and his fiancé Vivian Haewood, the annoyingly happy one that clung to Charles was the much spoken about Elaine. Along with these came two others. The Haewood's youngest, a brother new to society, and Mr. Haewood, the father of all but Jacob.

"It is a pleasure Mr. Eames, as I have heard it you are one of Mr. Fyrmont's close friends. I am curious as to your occupation as I have heard little of it," Rose smiled as she bowed her head in her customary fashion. Jacob laughed and gestured for her to sit on the settee with him.

"I am in the business of shipping, Miss Silksome. If anything is being sent abroad or even being brought into England, mine is the fleet that is doing the job. We recently got this shipment of beautiful-" Rose tuned out as she found herself watching Charles and the younger Haewood interact. She hung on his arm as if to claim him. Her silken blonde hair framed her seemingly perfect face, and her laugh was light and airy. Rose shifted her gaze back to Jacob after a venomous look from Elaine, finding him studying her features. She took to inspecting her fingers as she held them in her lap. The tension began to make her wish to flee, until Jacob laughed heartily.

"You are peculiar Miss Silksome. You seem confident until you find someone looking directly at you, then you turn into a shy, withdrawn…." Jacob tapered off, giving Rose a peculiar look then glancing over at Charles. He took to thinking that this humble scholar was the woman that had kept Charles in a dark haze for weeks, at least before meeting Elaine. Though this thought took only seconds, when he turned his eyes back to Rose, she was gone; a swinging doors the only trace of her being there. Jacob chuckled under his breath before standing and joining his fiancé and friend.

"Your estate manager is quite charming Charles, she has this intriguing way of raising her eyebrow," Jacob tested, raising his own eyebrow. Charles snapped his attention towards him with a dark glower. Slightly turning from Elaine, he stared Jacob down and shook his head slightly with drawn lips.

"She does her job, yes." He practically hissed. Jacob smirked as he looked between Elaine and Charles, noting that Elaine took in every bit of the conversation before turning an angry eye to the door from which Rose had departed.

"I wonder if Marcus would be interested in her work. He is looking to take up in the law, perhaps she knows of an adequate university. I bet he would end up speaking with her for hours." Jacob hastened from the room, if only to annoy Charles even more than her already had. In truth Marcus, the young Haewood, would likely fall asleep listening to the scholar but he wanted to see how Charles would react to the thought of someone else spending copious amounts of time with Rose and had not been disappointed. The man looked driven driven to murder.

After dinner was through, instead of retiring to the separate parlors everyone agreed to play cards in the library to pass the evening. They dragged the desk in the middle and arranged the arm chairs around it as to fit everyone.

"This must be how rustic folk play cards. Oh this does feel quite novel," Elaine simpered at Charles. He smiled back at her as he dealt the cards. After several games, the conversation turned to the room itself.

"This is a lovely library Mr. Fyrmont, how long did it take to acquire so many volumes?" Elaine began pulling volume after volume down from the shelves, glancing at the titles before places them at random on nearby tabled or empty shelf space.

After dinner was through, instead of retiring to the separate parlors everyone agreed to play cards in the library to pass the evening. They dragged the desk in the middle and arranged the arm chairs around it as to fit everyone.

"This must be how rustic folk play cards. Oh this does feel quite novel," Elaine simpered at Charles. He smiled back at her as he dealt the cards. After several games, the conversation turned to the room itself.

"This is a lovely library Mr. Fyrmont, how long did it take to acquire so many volumes?" Elaine began pulling volume after volume down from the shelves, glancing at the titles before places them at random on nearby tabled or empty shelf space.

"A great many years. My great great grandfather began by purchasing a small bookstore in Lancashire." Charles fidgeted slightly as she placed each book down haphazardly. She sent a sparkling smile back his way as she continued.

"How on earth do you keep them all clean?" As if summoned, Rose pushed open the library doors, a large bundle of papers nestled in her arms, her curls beginning to escape their pins. Everyone watched as she went to put the papers on the desk, only to find it gone. She puffed at a lock of hair before finally turning her gaze upwards to the party. She paled as she gazed around the library. In a great rush, Charles stood, hoping to draw her eyes away from all the books that had been carelessly littered about.

"I hope you don't mind Miss Silksome but we decided to use the desk for cards. We felt the need for the tranquil atmosphere of the library," why on earth was he apologizing? It was his library! He felt more than observed Elaine standing and walking even with him.

"Yes it does have a certain….novelty to it. No one much uses their libraries anymore. Honestly you must feel sorry for those that had to give a room attached to the library to a scholar!" Charles stood aghast as Rose's eyes flitted to the door of her room, "Although I must say Mr. Fyrmont, this library is kept pristine," Elaine smiled amiably and lightly touched Charles' arm.

"Get out," Rose whispered, her hands and therefore the papers in her arms trembled.

"I beg your pardon!?" Elaine gasped, looking at Charles to see his reaction to the woman's insubordination. He was quite frozen, as if unsure what to do.

"I said GET OUT!" Rose shouted before storming back to her room and dumping the papers on her own desk, which already overflowed with what looked like crumpled up letters and burned out candle stubs. She flew back out, plucking up each book she passed and depositing them safely in her arms.

"I don't believe that is your place to direct us you filthy wretch! You are Mr. Fyrmont's employee and are therefore beneath me!" Elaine spat. Charles began to herd her out of the room with a gentle hand on the small of her back. She in return practically melted into his arms, almost in a faint. She murmured about being so shocked that she could hardly breathe. He caught Rose rolling her eyes out of the corner of his own as he ushered the fine lady from the room.

"Filthy wretch ha _minable clocharde,_" Rose shot a fire filled look at Charles before turning and placing the books back in their respective spots. Only Jacob and Vivian remained in the room.

"I do apologize for my sister Miss Silksome, she really is a sweet girl," Vivian tried a smile, but it came out watery. Jacob helped Rose to move the desk back into its place, observing that tears threatened to spill over her reddened cheeks.

"I do apologize Miss Silksome, if I had known moving the desk would cause you such distress I never would have suggested it," He offered. Rose let out a choked laugh and pressed a hand to her lips. A tear or two escaped, but she quickly swiped them away.

"It is not the desk sir, and I assure you that I rarely act in the way you have just seen. I really am quite cool in temper," Her smile wobbled, but was sincere.

"Is that French I hear in your words? Are you from France?" Jacob smiled genially.

"N-no. no. Heavens no, I am NOT French," She paled further. She wrung her fingers, pushing the blood from them before bidding Vivian and Jacob goodnight as the couple disappeared to their rooms. After gently shutting the heavy door , she let out a gush of breath and slid onto the ground next to a pile of books, leaning against the cold stone wall. Then the hot rain of tears began.

"I hate these people and I hate this house! I hate being a scholar and I hate not being home! Oh mother why didn't you warn me sooner," Her voice was but a choked whimper and the sadness in it drove her to curl up in a ball of purple skirts as she despaired. Such exertion eventually brought on a wave of exhaustion, leaving her fast asleep on the floor.

Charles flew down the corridor to the library, fully intent on scolding Rose about her behavior towards his guests, especially Elaine. He did not expect to find the stone faced and steely woman curled up in a corner, her face white and splotched with red from crying violently. He did not expect to feel a shot of longing shoot into his heart. He found a sudden longing to take her in his arms and comfort her, coaxing her gently to tell him what distressed her so. The thought crossed his mind to wake her and inquire as to what made her weep, but caught himself from doing so, deciding to sit in an arm chair and wait for her to wake on her own.

He settled himself into said armchair and took to observing Rose as he was to shy to do when she was awake. Her chocolate brunette hair curled and coiled into an untamable mass, which had slipped from the pins to cascade down her back and cover part of her face. Her pink lips trembled as though she cried in her sleep, though no more tears slid their way down her pale cheeks. The scent of old leather and ink clung to her as the scent of flowers clung to other women, without the cloying thickness prone to the latter. She whimpered slightly with each exhale, and her fingers briefly flexed every now and then.

He studied her for a great amount of time, memorizing each feature that was so peaceful and open in sleep that was closed off when awake. At last he decided he could not let her sleep through the night on the floor and so he gently lifted her into his arms. She was light and felt so fragile. Her eyes fluttered momentarily but she stayed asleep. He eased open the door to her room and placed her on her covers then left after placing an afghan over her sleeping form. Even as he walked to his own room he could still feel the warmth of her through his jacket and shirt.

"Oh Mr. Fyrmont there you are!" Elaine came sweeping around a corner from the guests hallway. Her bubbly voice shattered the envelope of blissful reflection that Charles had found himself in. He found himself all at once wearied but glad of her presence.

"Miss Haewood," he bowed, offering his arm, "A flower such as you should be in bed at this hour," They slowly ambled back down the guest hallway. Charles inwardly shook his head as the scent of violets assaulted his nose, again causing him to reflect on the sweet and faint scent that he now associated with Rose.

"Oh I know, but I simply could not sleep for fear of forgetting the marvelous idea I have had!" She giggled. He motioned for her to continue, "I think it would be grand if we all went for a little tour of your lands tomorrow on horseback! I couldn't help but noticing you have a very impressive stable. I even saw a beautiful black mare that I feel would suit me perfect."

Charles vaguely remembered nodding his agreement to the venture once morning arrived. He woke feeling uncommunicative and brooding. He grudgingly obliged his guests while wondering what had possessed him to invite them all. He greatly disliked having people at Lorebury, and he found the decreasing amount of time he had to himself began to wear on him. Still, the vivacious Miss Elaine slowly cajoled him into a slightly better mood just as they were heading to the stables to retrieve their mounts. Charles had asked Rose, who eyed him suspiciously all morning, if she would lead them around his property, as she could remember every little detail of each point of interest. After a promise that the library was not to be invaded and riffled through without her knowledge again, she consented.

"You can't do anything but feel a little bad for her Charles," Jacob whispered to him as they all gathered outside the stables, "She must feel very plain in that simple wool riding habit, while the Haewoods wear ones of beautiful muslins." Charles could see Jacob's reasoning, but he felt that Rose truly didn't care if her riding habit was wool or not. Rose seemed quite secure with herself, and had a certain posture of nobility that the two other women did not.

"Oh this is the beauty I said should suit me! Oh dear Mr. Fyrmont you must have been listening! There is already a side saddle and everything!" Elaine gushed as the horse was led out of its stall, "It must have an equally beautiful name. Namia or Deval or the like? Oh do tell me her name!"

"Her name is Khafre. She is a pure bred Arabian and she is mine as I am hers. She will let no one else ride her." Rose pulled on some plain black riding gloves before taking Khafre's reins and leading her outside. Elaine huffed before following her.

"I am sure I could ride her and keep her in check. I will be riding that beast today Miss Silksome. You will have to find another mount." The arrogance rolled off her as she spoke, a haughty lift in her chin added to the affect.

"With respect Miss Haewood, it is for your own safety that I insist you take the other mount," Rose gestured to the docile old mare being led from the stables. At first Charles thought that maybe Rose was still bitter about the books and library, but one glance at her face and the impatiently stomping horse next her led him to believe she was in earnest.

"Come Miss Haewood, Constance shall be a dutiful mount for you," He tried to guide her to the old horse but she would have none of it.

"I will not be disrespected in this fashion by a peasant!" She huffed and spun around, taking Khafre's reins, practically ripping them from Rose's hands. In a swift motion, with a boost from a couple stable hands, she was seated in the worn side saddle. Rose turned away, shaking her head whilst rolling her eyes. The smug smile on Elaine's face started to fade as the lively horse side stepped and spun, making sounds of protest. Khafre snorted and reared, effectively throwing Elaine to the ground.

"I told her," Charles heard Rose whisper, "Mr. Eames, kindly go to the town and fetch Dr. Cainlin, Charles, be kind enough to help Miss Vivian to a chair before she faints. We will have to leave Miss Elaine here, for we know not what she may have broken. Oh and give me your handkerchief," Charles stood stunned as she uttered his name, and he did not move and inch. She instantly took control as she saw that Elaine lay motionless in the dirt. She quickly led the irritated horse back in the stables before snatching the outstretched kerchief he had had enough mind to pull out and began methodically wiping away the blood on Elaine's face.

"Will she be alright?" Vivian asked.

"If she has not broken her neck or spine I should say she will recover, however she hit her head quite hard and I can give no guarantees." Only Charles saw the glimpse of doubt in her eyes as she held the bloodied cloth to Elaine's head.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Why does she have to be so head-strong?" Vivian sobbed as the group waited outside of Elaine's room for the doctor to give them news. Jacob tried to comfort his fiancé with a hand rubbing small circles on her back. Charles paced slowly in front of the chair he had tried to patiently wait in, while Rose stood at the end of the hallway looking out a window at the setting sun.

"Sit down Charles, you are no help to her if you fall over from exhaustion," Jacob sighed as Charles sent him a confused look before continuing to pace. Little did Jacob know, Charles was not fretting over Elaine, or he was but more in the fact her was fretting over the realization that he was not fretting over her. His thoughts were occupied with the woman down the hall. She had assumed a role of authority when it had been his duty, but he had utter failed in assuming said role. She had handled the whole situation with her reserved calm and she ordered everyone about with sensible command.

"There's something more going on," He muttered. He paused his strides long enough to witness Rose press a hand against the glass before hurrying down to a side door. He watched her go as long as he could before she disappeared down a different hall.

"Go see if she is alright Charles. She may feel responsible." Jacob waved him off. Without a second urging, Charles did so. He paused at the end of the downstairs hallway when he saw a man sitting next to Rose on a bench, holding her hand. Charles was about to return to the chair he left upstairs when he heard a sharp intake of breath and a sickening snap. He whirled back around to see the man holding out Rose's arms, which had turned black and purple around her wrist. The man, obviously a local apothecary or doctor, began bandaging the wrist after placing two braces on each side.

"You will not be able to write for at least a month. If the bruising gets any worse make sure to keep ice on it and call on me immediately," The man stood, tipping his hat and left through the side door again. Rose stood, gingerly pulling her dress sleeve over the bandages, obviously trying to cover up her injury. Charles felt pain to see it.

"Are you badly hurt?" His voice came out as a choked whisper, and he cleared his throat to mask it, "Why did you not bring it to my attention?"

Rose looked at him for several long moments as she still fiddled with her sleeve, "It is just a broken wrist sir, it was not a pressing issue."

"When were you injured?" Charles took a step closer, his suspicion growing.

"Khafre didn't want to go back in the stall sir. I held onto the reins to keep her from bolting."

"That was close to six hours ago!" Charles grasped her good arm, "Why did you not say something! You must have been in a deal of pain!"

"It was not a pressing issue! I would have had to wait till the doctor was finished with Miss Elaine anyway. I saw no reason to cause a fuss!" She shrugged her arm from his grasp, cradling her wrist against her abdomen with her other arm. She pushed passed him and returned upstairs, usurping Charles' chair. Charles flew around the corner.

"You troublesome woman! You should take care of yourself!" He practically shouted. Jacob looked between the two.

"Are you alright Miss Silksome? What can Charles mean?" Jacob turned an inquisitive eye on Rose. She paled and shook her head slightly.

"It was just a broken wrist Mr. Eames. Nothing to worry about really."

"Just a broken wrist?! My dear girl, why did you not say something!?"

"That's what I asked! She didn't want to cause a fuss Jacob! I have never met such an obstinate woman!" Charles ran his fingers through his hair before gesturing with his whole hand at Rose. She merely turned her gaze to her hands in her lap and said nothing.

"I am sure you meant well Miss Silksome, but I am afraid Charles is right. You should have said something. We are friends are we not? Allow us to worry as friends do," Jacob admonished her with kindness and a slight smile.

"I am sorry Mr. Eames. I just saw more important things to be seen to. If I am in such distress again I promise I will inform you immediately," She spoke softly, pain from setting the wrist was obvious in her voice but she managed a small smile which she directed to Jacob.

"I do not think it is I to which you should apologize," Jacob nodded toward Charles, who had tried to watch the exchange with indifference.

"I am sorry sir, but I would appreciate turning concern away from me," Charles grew more frustrated. Leave it to this woman to apologize but still get her way within one line of conversation. Charles nodded his acceptance of the apology, but could not bring himself to speak. The silence grew unbearable to Rose, so she stood and attempted to make an escape. As she passed by Charles though, his voice stopped her.

"We will speak of this later Rose," His voice was soft and held no anger in it. The tone caused Rose to shudder before continuing on to her room. Once inside the relative safety of her room, she slid into the chair at her desk. The failed attempts at her letter still lay strewn across its surface, some even spilling onto the floor. She opened the top right drawer and drew out the final draft of the letter with Charles' name scrawled in her messy handwriting across the front.

"I should throw it in the fire," she spoke aloud absentmindedly. She stared at the letter as she went over what she had written within. Would she still be employed once he read its contents? Would he throw her out for her pure selfishness and youthful mistake? Would abhorrence cloud his hypnotizing eyes as he read what her selfishness had caused? She shook her head as if to dispel the darkening train of thought. One glance out her small window told her that she had sat contemplating for much longer than she had thought. The moon gladly usurped the suns space in the sky and shone its pale light over the fields and trees.

A soft knock sounded at her door and she rose to open it. Charles stood outside, and without a word ushered her to one of the chairs in the library. He then sat across from her.

"You are hiding something. I want to know what." That had come out more directly than he had planned. Rose paled and glanced quickly at the open door of her room, revealing her desk. She then turned sharp eyes on Charles.

"Everyone has secrets sir. I am no different." So she wasn't ready to tell him. Or trust him? They sat in silence for a stretch before Charles took control of the failing conversation.

"As your employer, no. No. As your friend, I think I deserve to know. It really can't be that bad can it? You have not been alive long enough to do something truly terrible after all," He said pleadingly. It had the opposite effect of what he thought. Her face hardened and became a stony expression, her hand clenched and her jaw set.

"You know nothing Charles. My past is a dark one. You would turn me out the instant you knew." She held eye contact with him.

"How do you know? I might surprise you."

"You are rich. The rich all act the same."

"You may be very observant, you may even claim that you are more intelligent than I, which very well may be true, but you know nothing about me either Rose Silksome. You seem to have pegged me as an arrogant and uncaring noble. Not everyone is the same!" Charles stormed from the room, leaving the library door swinging in his wake. As his footsteps faded down the hallway, tears traced their way down her cheeks. Her head began to pound and her wrist throbbed with pain. She realized that she would not be able to do her job properly for a month while her wrist healed. Maybe he wouldn't notice? Seeing how observant Charles had turned out to be, Rose highly doubted that he wouldn't notice the slip in her work.

The doctor had said that Elaine only suffered a few cuts and a nasty hit to the head, resulting in a concussion. She was up and about the next afternoon, her only true complaint was occasional dizziness and a dull throbbing. She and her sister sat out on a small patio, sipping tea in the afternoon sun.

"I know you dislike her, but that was no reason to disregard her caution!" Vivian scolded her sister. Truly, Vivian was disappointed and annoyed with her sister. She seemed to carry an unwarranted grudge against the young scholar, whom Vivian had come to count as a friend.

"She is insolent and selfish. She probably made the beast throw me. She is obviously making eyes at Mr. Fyrmont," Elaine snubbed.

"Elaine! Rose was the one that wiped the blood from your wounds and directed everyone to make sure you were alright! She broke her wrist in the process while you came away with minor injuries!" Vivian was now disgusted with her sister. She didn't realize what a selfish creature Elaine had evolved into over the last couple of weeks.

"Oh you're on a first name basis now! She most likely was trying to wave suspicion away from herself," Elaine continued sipping her tea as if it were just another afternoon. Vivian shoved herself away from the table, and stomped inside to find Jacob. She found him lounging in the study with Charles. He flew to his feet as she flew through the door.

"What is the matter darling?" He scowled in confusion. She puffed at her hair and flopped into a chair. Charles raised his eyebrow and settled back into his chair, sinking into it in a leisurely fashion.

"My sister is being an absolute imp! Surely it is from that blow to her head right? She is being horrible to Rose and blames her for what happened!" Vivian ranted.

"On a first name basis with my employee are we Vivian?" Charles tried to effect a disinterested manner but the idea that someone that was not himself was to that point, and had only known the woman for three weeks. Jacob covered a smirk, but Vivian didn't seem to notice.

"Yes. We spoke this morning and we came to an agreement. I do like her." She commented offhandedly. Charles was no longer lounging in his chair and was trying to look natural. Jacob continued to grin at his fiancé.

"You know it is a shame that Father and Marcus returned to London. Their health was suffering though you know. I think they just wanted to watch that hanging of that one murderer or something." Vivian kept rambling on as the men exchanged a wearied glance. Jacob smiled though. He dearly loved the woman and would see no harm done to her.

The conversation that morning with Vivian had lifted Rose's spirits. It had been a long time since she had had a friend. She felt at ease with the aristocrat and genuinely liked her. They had even come to the conclusion to drop the fluffy titles.

The stone floors sent the click of her boots echoing down the corridor as she made her way to dinner. Vivian had insisted she eat with them for the remainder of their visit, and Rose had only agreed after some friendly threats. The party was already in the dining hall, as Rose told them not to wait for her. She had tried to enter some statistics of the crop production into a ledger, but her wrist protested and she had not the skill to write with her left. It had taken ages to write more than a few sentences.

A footman opened the heavy doors for her and she could not help but smile as she saw that Vivian had retained a seat next to her. Rose took said seat, and began eating her soup slowly, not used to the spoon being in her left hand.

"So Rose, you told me that you had been to the apothecary earlier today. What did he say?" Vivian inquired. Only Jacob noticed that the spoon in Charles hand paused in midair as he strained to hear the soft reply.

"He said it is healing adequately, but that I need to keep an eye on bruising. Apparently one of the bruises has given him some concern." Rose seemed genuinely at ease, and abnormally…..happy in Vivian's company. Charles noted this and started scheming to have the pair spend more time together, thinking that this might draw Rose from her shell. Jacob seemed to see his plan, and nodded his approval. Vivian was a pleasant and amiable woman, but her wealth had made it difficult to find true friends.

"Well you probably wouldn't have an issue if you would follow his directive and cease writing!" Vivian scolded. Charles turned his full attention to Rose, who looked at him with an ashamed blush.

"We will speak of it later," He said kindly. He had long grown tired of their frequent shouting matches, each yelled word seemingly draining him of energy. He truly hated fighting her.

She nodded and finished dinner in companionable silence, often casting glances at Vivian, who would laugh under her breath. Rose would also try to contain giggles.

"You two seem to be sharing a private joke!" Jacob looked between the two women, relishing how happy his fiancé looked, "Do share so we may all laugh."

"Very well," Vivian laughed as Rose paled and stared at her empty bowl, "Early we had discussed that Mr. Fyrmont has this tendency to blank out and stare with his mouth open." It was that exact moment that Charles returned from his thoughts to see everyone looking at him. Jacob and Vivian practically roared with laughter, their laughs mingling. Elaine gave a demure laugh as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. Rose smiled and laughed, looking down at her lap. Her face was radiant when she smiled. Charles laughed good naturedly with them as they stood to go into a drawing room.

Once everyone was seated, Vivian and Rose on the couch, Elaine by the fire and Charles, with Jacob standing with his hands on Vivian's shoulders, the evening continued in a genial manner.

"Mr. Fyrmont, you must be overwhelmed from time to time with your duties must you not?" Elaine inquired before fanning herself.

"Not really. Perhaps in my grandfather's time it would have been so, but now we hire people to do our work for us. Even overseeing my overseers is relatively painless," he replied.

"You have a housekeeper do you not? Who oversees her?" Elaine asked innocently.

"No one really. She does her job well and I have had no reason to complain. I suppose though that my wife would, if I had one."

"It would not be hard for you to acquire one! You are still young, unless you look remarkably well for your age," She resorted to disguised flattery.

"I am but nine and twenty. But you make it sound as if a wife were a commodity brought in on one of Jacob's ships!" Charles admitted, questioning her motives.

"Oh but aren't they in a way? Wives are a means to transfer wealth, gain property, and sometimes even gain a good reputation. Dowries are probably the main source of wealth for many men. I don't claim much but my dowry is significant." Elaine was so transparent. Rose had tuned in to the conversation and now felt the need to add commentary.

"Do you really feel that women are good for nothing but a dowry?" She asked, and Charles could see the hint of fire in her eyes that spelled her temper was boiling. Her voice remained calm though.

"Well yes. How else could they possibly contribute?"

"Women know different things than men. They can help advise them in those matters. They can be the cool head of a pair, they can comfort through tragedy, and yes dowries can help but I do not think they should be the main basis of marriage." Rose sneered and stood. She shot Elaine a disgusted look before disappearing, presumably to the library. Vivian shook her head and followed her. She hesitantly opened the library door, peeking her head in. She saw Rose pacing, periodically glancing at the riding boots that lay haphazardly in her doorway.

"Not thinking of running away are you?" Vivian tried a joking tone. Rose turned to her, eyes red rimmed and infinite weariness in the irises, "Oh you're surely not, are you?" Rose fell into a chair in sobs. Vivian pulled a chair across from her and sat. She took hold of Rose's left hand and spoke as a mother would.

"Tell me what has caused this. You were in much better spirits at dinner. Talk to me Rose. I am your friend remember? You can trust me." Several minutes passed as she continued to weep.

"Oh Vivian, if I had known how living here would torture me and bring up old memories I would never have come."

"What holds your heart in such a bitter grip?" It took Rose several minutes to reply, but at last she felt a small warming in her heart that told her to trust Vivian.

"My parents were nobles in France, not very influential but quite wealthy. I grew up in France and I never knew what it was like to starve or work for your possessions. My parents were always loving and they cared deeply for me, but I didn't always see that. Three years ago, when I was 17, I met a man. His name was Sebastion Rivera. He was a lord from Spain. He was charming and handsome and rich enough that he could easily take me away from my parents and we wouldn't have to rely on them. I was under the impression that I loved him. It was only later that I learned what a monster he was. I had a substantial fortune available to me, that I could draw on whenever I wished and he somehow knew of it. One day, when we were on a picnic the day he had formally asked to court me, he told me that he was not wealthy at all, and he needed funds to properly marry me. He asked for everything I had. I happily gave it to him. My parents were so happy that I could marry for love that they actually wrote him into their will. That was when things got worse. He learned that the only way he inherited anything was if my parents were dead, and he a widower. It was written only if they or I was not able to support him. He told me, after we were married, that if I did not disappear, then he would kill my parents," Rose's tone had gone completely numb at this point. "So I left, I ran away to England. I was declared dead and the marriage ended. Two weeks after I arrived in England, living with my uncle, I learned that my parents had been killed in a suspicious fire. Sebastion got everything. My parents are dead because of me."

She once again dissolved into sobs while Vivian sat shocked. She had expected an explanation but certainly nothing that….dark. They sat for a long stretch of time until the tears stopped and conversation once again ensued.

"That is hardly you're fault. You can't help who you fall in love with and what they do."

"That's the thing. I didn't really love him, I loved the idea of getting away from the responsibilities I had. Ironically enough, I am higher in the hierarchy than my employer."

"He is an Earl, so you are?"

"A Marchioness. And Silksome isn't my name. I have told this to you in confidence Vivian. If word got out that I was here, who knows what Sebation would do."

"I will say nothing, be assured. Have you not told Mr. Fyrmont?" Vivian's elegant eyebrows creased downward.

"No. What would he do if he learned that I had lied? I am not a Silksome, and the man he met was not my father. I was going to tell him when he returned from London, but I didn't expect him so bring people," Rose winced a little at the tone in her voice. She hoped she hadn't offended Vivian.

"Oh I understand," Vivian laughed, "You would tell him, but not with an audience."

"Exactly. I've written him a letter, but I can't seem to bring myself to give it to him," Rose admitted. They continued talking late into the night, Vivian slowly coaxing Rose from her shell. Now that the past had been laid out, and she understood why the talk of wives had upset Rose, they both opened up and shared companionable conversation.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"You would think that Miss Silksome had come to some harm because of a dowry the way she reacted to the conversation. It was entirely uncalled for right Jacob?" Charles stood restlessly while Jacob appeared to be napping on the sofa, with one arm thrown over his eyes and his boots up on the arm.

"I didn't think so. She brought up a good point Charles. Elaine made it sound like the only reason to marry was if a dowry was involved. Being close to matrimony myself I highly resented the statement," Jacob sighed. He wearied of this constant barrage of questions, almost all of them involving Rose Silksome. The incident of which they spoke happened almost three nights before yet still he brought it up. He wished Charles would just come out and say that he positively adored the girl. Everyone could see it except Rose and Elaine it seemed. Even Vivian had commented on his obvious affection, and she almost always missed any sort of hint of that nature.

"True, true. But don't you think she has been unkind to Elaine these past couple of days?" And back he went to the infernal pacing. The sound of it felt as though it would never leave Jacob's ears.

"Charles, sit down would you? You're going to drill holes through my skull with your pacing!" Jacob swung into a sitting position. His chestnut hair was rumpled and spiked in every direction, and bags had started forming their dark circles under his eyes. Almost every night Charles kept him up late, speaking of what Rose may or may not have done wrong.

"Sorry. I don't know why I have been doing that so much lately. I just can't seem to sit still anymore."

"Why can't you see the real problem here? You are completely infatuated with your estate manager! You speak of her all the time, and you cast these glances at her constantly!"

"I do not! I am not! It would be utterly unacceptable."

"Why? Because she isn't nobility? Because she doesn't have a title? Charles, it is getting to the point in time where people actually marry for love, not money or titles. If you face the fact that she holds your heart, the more at ease you will feel."

"She has no hold on my heart Jacob! I will admit there may be a healthy amount of admiration and perhaps I am attracted to her, but it is far from a sure thing. I have found that I am very much drawn to Miss Elaine," Charles smiled at the thought of her. Her determination to ride Khafre, her resilience after her injury, and her adorable innocence on the matter of dowries all endeared her to him. Her treatment of Rose did grate on him though. Her blaming Rose for being thrown from the horse made him grind his teeth together.

"I do confess that Viv and I had hoped you would grow attached to Elaine. Then perhaps we could be brothers. But don't you dare use that as an excuse to dismiss Miss Silksome." Jacob warned. Suddenly a sharp crash drew their attention outside. The sound was followed by a fit of giggles. Both men ran to the window, to see if any harm had come to the ladies.

"Oh I forgot, Vivian was showing Miss Silksome some of the traditions of the Greeks. They spoke yesterday and she showed interest in the subject. Vivian was all too happy to oblige." Jacob smiled as Rose and Vivian each grabbed a simple plate and tossed it in the air, letting it shatter on the ground. Both women were enjoying the experience immensely. Jacob stealthily opened the window just enough that they could clearly hear the two, and then gave Charles a conspiratorial look.

"I told you it was great fun dear," Vivian said in-between giggles, "I'm just glad the merchant in town had these dishes that couldn't sell!"

"What a blessing for him then, to have a wealthy woman ask to purchase the most horrific green dishware in the county. He must have gone to heaven when you offered for them." Rose laughed lightly as she tossed another lime green plate into the air.

"That is a truly horrendous color," Jacob murmured. Charles chuckled as the women squealed and danced away as a plate shattered in a wide arc, sending glass spinning towards them. They again resorted to giggles as the destruction continued.

"That is the happiest I have seen R-Miss Silksome for as long as I have known her." Charles sighed.

"I am glad Miss Silksome is here. Vivian has so few good friends and I love hearing her laugh. Both benefit from the friendship, and I am determined to see it continue." Jacob turned to Charles, his eyes held a very serious weight in them. He looked at Charles for a moment to insure that he was not misunderstood.

"I won't be sending her away Jacob, if that is indeed what you are afraid of."

"Vivian wants Miss Silksome to come back to London with us for the wedding Charles. She is insistent upon it. Little did she know, I had already come to the same idea." Charles pulled away from the window, turning his back on Jacob.

"She is my estate manager Jacob. I-Lorebury can't go on without her."

"Vivian and I thought of that. With her wrist still giving her pain when she writes, she cannot do her work as she wished. We thought we could loan you mine Viv's attorney, seeing as she had already begun using mine. That way the ledgers will not fall behind and Vivian can have her friend at our wedding." Jacob was practically begging. No one could ever say that Jacob Eames did not love Vivian Haewood completely and deeply. Theirs was a love that was not often found in the upper class. Vivian wanted Rose there, and Jacob would do most anything to give his lady her wish.

"Fine," Charles sighed after a long contemplation. He had to admit that he could see that the relationship was doing Rose good. She seemed less reserved and more at ease with herself. Vivian also seemed to come alive and have real personality around her. Jacob beamed at his friend and rushed out, assumedly to tell the pair the development.

Charles tried not to, but he found himself watching from the window as Jacob slowed his quick pace as he neared the women.

"Vivian darling," He called, a smile still stretched across his face, "Charles has agreed. Would you like to tell Miss Silksome or shall I?"

"Oh Rose! You are to come to London with us for the wedding!" Vivian squealed in delight, and hurried on as she saw Rose about to protest, "Don't worry about your work, we are having my attorney handle it while you are away, which is an excellent plan because you can actually give your wrist a rest!"

Rose was stunned at the sudden invitation. She stuttered for a moment, feeling horribly confused. She saw her friends face start to fall, thinking that she was not excited.

"I don't have anything to wear," Rose offered. Vivian beamed and bounced over to hug her.

"I will get you a superb dress! Then you know who," she whispered as if it were a great secret, "Will have no choice but to notice you!" Rose responded by playfully smacking Vivian's arm.

Jacob smiled and watched as Vivian ran into the house to start prepping ideas for Rose's dress, leaving the girl to continue staring in surprise after her. Jacob chuckled and gestured for Rose to sit on a nearby bench.

"I am afraid Viv has taken quite the shine to you Miss Silksome, however did you manage it?"

"I honestly don't know. The morning after Miss Elaine's accident she came into the library thanking me for what I'd done. I told her it was truly nothing. All of a sudden she was grasping my arms and speaking very seriously about how she could tell I had a good heart and she would very much like to get to know me better. I think she found it endearing when I looked infinitely confused and could only stutter in response." Rose laughed lightly, "It was only later that I learned that Vivian is the one with the good heart. I find myself very at ease with her."

"Well I am indescribably grateful to you. I hope you will eventual feel at ease with me in the same way, as I am certain that we will see a lot of each other. What Vivian wants, I am happy to give,"

"Oh I do feel at ease with you Mr. Eames! You are one of the most kind-hearted and loving men I have ever met!" She exclaimed.

"Do call me Jacob then."

"Only if I never hear myself addressed as Miss Silksome again! It does make me feel very old you understand," Rose smiled, and neither she nor Jacob noticed that Charles had been watching from the window the whole time.

"At ease with everyone but me. And who on earth was Vivian talking about? Rose doesn't have a love interest in town does she?" Charles was immensely confused. And irked by the amount he found himself thinking of his manager and not the woman he felt he was very much falling for. Elaine was a sweet, genial sort of girl, not to mention extremely pretty and filled with life, and yet his mind frequently turned to the pale, quiet, and often times a strange sort of bitter that was directed at everyone and yet no one, scholar that never looked him in the eye.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Other than the temporary excitement caused by Elaine's accident, the visit was uneventful. For several weeks their daily occupations ranged from reading and hand work for the ladies and shooting to lounging and drinking for the men. They went about once a week to town, if only for a change in scenery. Vivian and Rose became extremely close friends and Charles and Elaine grew even closer. One was rarely seen without the other. Elaine found herself completely smitten with Charles. She admired his apparent strength and good character, his genteel manners and simply way of putting things. She could never stop smiling when she was with him. The only thing or person that put a damper on her enthusiasm was the estate manager.

"How can you be so relaxed when a servant is manipulating my sister? Your fiancé!?" Elaine was often heard shouting at Jacob. Jacob always replied calmly that Rose was the sweetest sort of girl so he didn't mind at all. Elaine would then stomp away to covertly complain to Charles, who would listen and nod his head in agreement.

Elaine got in a particular huff one lovely Saturday as all the guests prepared to leave Lorebury for London. The household was all in a bustle, servants and ladies maids running about to finish the packing. The staff pulled out linen to cover the furniture while the master was away, and the stable hands calmly raced to get all the horses saddled or attached to the carriages. The estate was in positive disarray, excepting the library where Rose was running over how she organized the ledgers and how to go about keeping proper records of the estate with Vivian's attorney, Mr. Oliver Greye.

"I recommend traveling to the outlying farms and the ranch first, as you will never get there should the weather turn bad. If it takes a turn for the worst while you are there, the families will provide for you till it is deemed safe to leave. You can get to those that are closer no matter the weather. The family that resides in the ranch will expect you for dinner every Sunday. I'm sorry but you will just have to accept." Rose pointed out everything on a small map, pleased that Mr. Greye was obviously capable and following her direction without any comment to her gender.

"I would be glad to do so, but may I ask why? It is not often that the tenants invite the person in charge of collecting their payments to dinner." Oliver scrunched his eyebrows together. He had been told to take whatever orders Miss Silksome gave him and follow them. He was not at all perturbed by the fact she was a woman, but the demand that he go to a ranch and eat with the family ever Sunday was a bit odd.

"They credit me with saving their barn from a fire. Ever since they have offered the kindness of the invitation, and I am not one to turn down an 80 year old woman waving a large wooden spoon at me until I accept." Rose laughed, the memory of the scene never failed to amuse her. Oliver quirked an eyebrow, a silly sort of grin on his face.

"I can see the wisdom in that, but I am sure they do not want me there,"

"Oh but they do! The same woman, they call her Mama Maggie, threatened to box my ears if I did not insist on you joining them as I did!" Rose tried to keep a serious grimace, but could not help but smile.

"Well Mama Maggie sounds like a force to be reckoned with! I shan't disobey I suppose. How could I when your safety would obviously be in question? " The two of them laughed as they exited the library, Oliver laden with ledgers and Rose carrying her small purse. Vivian came upon the two just as they entered the main hall.

"I see you found your way Mr. Greye! It took me a week to find the library without a guide or a map." She smiled once she saw Rose turn away, trying to mask a broad grin.

"Alas I am afraid I did not. I was wandering hopelessly when Ms. Silksome stumbled upon me. I got a stern talking to about trespassing before I got a chance to explain. I then made the mistake of assuming she was the housekeeper," Oliver was flush still with the embarrassment of it, as was Rose.

"Yes, after that I am afraid I may have threatened to leave your attorney here lost in the back wing to starve and eventually perish," Rose smiled sheepishly. Vivian laughed heartily. She knew well Rose's ability to chagrin even the most righteous person, while Oliver could argue his way out of anything.

"So he got a pleasant introduction! My my he is a lucky one," Vivian joked, remembering the reception she had received. A small bow of the head, a "Pleased Ma'am" and a swinging door as she left. She was pleased that the two seemed to have gotten along, even as they discussed sums or some other boring nonsense.

"Oh indeed! I was disappointed though when she did not threaten to box my ears," Oliver had trouble keeping his smile in check, his mouth twitched with the effort as he saw Rose having the same problem.

"You already have inside jokes! Rose darling you are fickle. Here I thought I was your closest friend!" Vivian feigned hurt. Rose laughed and pointed to a disgustingly green plate that now had a place in a small display case. They proceeded to laugh as they left arm in arm to see to the packing of the entire luggage stack on the carriages, leaving Oliver wondering what on earth to do.

"Do you like him then?" Vivian asked once they were outside.

"Yes I do believe he will maintain and continue my work properly,"

"Yes but do you like him?" Vivian shook her head at her friend's blindness to what she really meant.

"Well…yes…I mean he is very pleasant for an attorney. I thought they were all supposed to be old and balding." They both laughed, close to tears, before settling onto a bench, watching as servants loaded everything.

Meanwhile Charles and Jacob were in the study, discussing their plans for traveling.

"If we hurry on to –shire and stay the night, we can make London by Thursday. We could probably be settled in by noon if roads are clear." Jacob sipped on some brandy while Charles finished counting out Mr. Greye's pay for the month or so they would be away.

"That should work. Are you nervous Jacob?"

"A little, but not for the reasons you think. I am nervous because shipping can be a very changeable business. What if I cannot support Viv the way she should be? That is why I am nervous, not the marriage itself. To be honest it will be nice to be able to be in the same room as her and just enjoy her company without the hawk that is her father watching. Do you know how hard it is to have a conversation about America while he is staring at you like you are an escaped convict? I could be reciting scripture and still feel like a sinner." He sighed. He didn't tell Charles that he planned to move the headquarters of his business and his home to Boston. It was still a year or two off and he didn't want to worry his friend.

"I may find that out for myself." He heard Charles mutter, but dismissed it.

"I think we need to discuss the last bit of business I had planned to bring up Charles. All Viv has spoken of other than the marriage is how Rose will visit us constantly. Seeing as she is under your employ, I should ask your permission first, but I won't lie and say I have not already made plans. Viv wants Rose to be a companion for her. They have become such close friends that I could not see a way to say no." Charles snapped his attention to Jacob. He looked at his friends face a moment before sitting down on the sofa across from him.

"A companion? But you are getting married. Why would she need a companion?" Charles questioned.

"I suppose I shall have to tell you old friend. In a year or two, I am going to be living in Boston. In America. Viv wants to have someone familiar, other than me, with her. The thought of America frightens her but she is much more willing to go if she has a friend with her. I am sorry to say that I have made the assumption and had a second home built for her near our own." Jacob couldn't look at his friend. He knew what he had done was underhanded and certainly not gentleman like, but he couldn't say no to Vivian.

"You didn't even ask before hand Jacob?!" Charles was offended, but he saw the hopeless love written all over his friends face. He felt that he himself almost understood it.

"I am sorry Charles."

"I will think about Jacob. I still have a year or two after all."

"Surely you're not riding all the way to London!" Vivian exclaimed when she saw Rose mount Khafre, wearing a comfortable grey riding habit.

"Surely I am not! No I am just riding until we get to –shire. I do not feel as though a carriage ride would do me any good today," She replied, urging Khafre alongside the carriage door that Vivian and Elaine had taken up in. The second carriage lay empty, awaiting the point where Charles and Jacob would tire of riding and take respite within.

"Ride on then!" Jacob shouted with a grin, and the carriages jolted forward in response. Just as they began rolling, Oliver Greye ran out the front door, his vest buttons half undone, the other half buttoned in the wrong slots.

"Miss Silksome!" He skidded to a stop near her horse.

"I know we are leaving early but I did not think it was terribly early Mr. Greye," Rose smirked good-naturedly at his mismatched appearance. He glanced down and gave a short chuckle before craning his neck to look at her.

"Would it be appropriate to write you? I mean if there is a problem of course," He stuttered out. Rose glanced over to Charles, who was technically the one of determining if a man could write her. He gave a stiff nod.

"Of course Mr. Greye, as long as you remember to say hello to Mama Maggie for me." She laughed under her breath and urged Khafre onwards, the impatient mare stomping her hooves in a sideways canter. The carriages were far ahead along the road, and those on horseback had to urge their mounts on to catch up.

They spent the afternoon in relative quiet, the warm air and light breeze lulling those in the carriage into a light sleep. Jacob had since retired to the second carriage so Charles and Rose were left to converse among themselves. They spent an awkward half hour glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes, looking away when the other turned to them.

"Your friends are lovely people," Rose muttered at last, the silence grating on her mind.

"I am glad you approve," Charles replied in a bored tone.

"If you don't wish to speak to me, just say as much now so I don't continue annoying you,"

"I just don't know why you would speak to me when you have been attached at the hip to Vivian," He threw at her.

"Are you really so bitter that I found someone who has become a good friend to me?"

"I'm not bitter," He said bitterly, with a bitter expression. She scoffed and urged Khafre forward, away from Charles. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming at him. That is what it always turned to when they spoke. Yelling and arguing, ending with her in tears and him feeling guilty.

Charles fumed, pointing soundlessly at her back several times before clutching at his fair and letting out a gush of air.

"You are infuriating woman!" Charles shook his head, growling slightly under his breath, "I just want to talk! Can we just talk?" Rose glanced behind her before quirking her aristocratic eyebrow.

"What do you wish to talk about sir?" He could hear the smirk in her voice.

"How about your father? I've never heard you speak of him," He saw Rose stiffen slightly.

"My father was-is a wonderful man. He used to tell me stories before I would go to sleep. My favorite was the story of the sleeping beauty, awakened by her true love. I would have him tell it to me every night, at least three or four times." She smiled sadly, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

"I suppose you miss him. You know you can go home sometimes? I am happy to allow that," Charles tried to look around her back to see her face, but she suddenly urged that carriage driver to stop, dismounted, and climbed inside after fastening her horse to the side.

"I can never go home Charles."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The journey to London taxed everyone. The summer heat had pushed tempers and strained even the best of friendships. As the carriages pulled alongside the town home, Rose practically threw herself from the cabin. Her unruly hair pulled free from her pins as she breathed the cool nighttime air. The rest of the group exited their conveyance with slightly more decorum.

"What has you shooting such daggered looks at Charles?" Jacob sauntered over to stand next to her. Unbeknownst to Rose, Charles had already told Jacob of their previous conversation.

"He asked me about my father." Came the clipped reply. Vivian suddenly appeared on the other side of Jacob. She was waving her delicate lace fan frantically in an effort to cool her heated face as Jacob smiled down at her.

"How was the trip my darling? Did your sister and Rose talk you to death?" He discreetly clasped his fiance's hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. She responded by rolling her eyes sarcastically and sighing.

"Yes I'm afraid they about near killed me between her silence," she gestured to Rose, "and her hateful looks at the both of us!" She finished by looking towards Elaine, who was clinging to Charles' arm as usual, simpering and sighing at everything he said.

"Well let's put the two love birds behind us and retire to a sitting room. I am in need of a brandy, and I would like to discuss something with the two of you." Jacob led them into the house, leaving Charles and Elaine to catch up. Charles was the first to notice that the rest of the party had disappeared, so presented his arm to escort Elaine inside.

The house was warm and smelled faintly of shortbread. Charles thought to himself that it was a fine home, but needed a woman's touch. It was a home much like his own in that sense. He then turned his eyes to Elaine. A soft flowery scent invaded his senses as she gently shook her blonde curls. His heart almost stopped when she turned and smiled coyly up at him from under her lashes. He felt his own lips return the smile as they entered the sitting room. He almost immediately dropped her arm when he saw Rose sobbing on one of the sofas. He flung an angry gaze towards Jacob, even as he stomped to him, grasping his arm and flinging him around to afford them some privacy.

"What did you do?" Charles growled; all the muscles in his back tensing as a loud sob was emitted from the woman. Jacob just smiled at him, raising his eyebrow in amusement.

"Just wait a moment old boy," It was only then that Charles realized that laughter was mixed between the tears, a light and lifting laugh that spoke of a great burden being raised from her heart.

"Thank you!" She stood and rushed to Charles, embracing him as tears still fell on her cheeks. He froze, unsure of what to do. Before he could truly react she stepped away from him. A rare and beautiful smile had spread itself across her face, the grief and darkness that normally clouded her countenance gone. She raised her hands to her lips, whispering a fervent thank you. She vanished into the hall, humming a French folk song, before Charles could even respond.

He stood scowling at the door, confusion etched into every feature. Jacob and Vivian exchanged tepid glances before seating themselves on a sofa. Charles turned to them, an eyebrow shot up in a look of incredulity. Elaine looked on with distain as the door to the sitting room still swung slowly to a close.

"We are in England, not France. I cannot believe her lack of decorum! And then a French song? I would almost think she was one of those…those imbeciles!" Elaine practically wailed. Charles turned a doting smile, more like that of an older brother acknowledging the silliness of a younger sister than a suitor, in her direction. Only Jacob noticed the severe pallor of his fiancé as the words were spoken.

"I've never seen her so….transparent with her feelings. What on earth was it about and how can I make it happen more often?" Charles chuckled. Jacob waited a moment, looking hesitant to answer. Charles leaned back, falling into an armchair, patiently waiting for an answer.

Rose floated down the hallway, humming a song her mother used to sing to her. Upon entering the room that had been assigned to her, she laughed out loud. She knew very well it was silly to act so over a new dress, but it was the generosity of her employer which had her giddy. No one had ever cared enough to notice that she disliked the simple garments she was forced to wear because of her station.

Glancing around her room, being keenly pleased with the crème draping and bed spread, large cherry wardrobe, and expansive window, she noticed a small silver tray with an envelope resting on the table by her dressing room door. Upon picking up the letter, she noticed the slightly messy handwriting, finding that she did not recognize it. Her name was on the front, so she proceeded with opening it.

The wax seal popped off with ease and she unfolded the parchment, the lack of crinkling told her it was written quite recently.

Dear Miss Silksome

I suppose I should have waited longer to write to you, and yet I found that I could not. It has been but a few days, and writing to you constantly invaded my normally organized thoughts.

I had dinner with Mama Maggie, as you instructed. She is exactly as you described her. She even threatened to box MY ears if I did not send you her love.

As to the estate, your records are impeccable and I have had no issues relating to that matter. The weather has turned slightly and I find that rain loves to find its way into the boots I left outside, much to my surprise and chagrin.

I look forward to reading your reply, if you stoop so low as to send one. You are after all, the guest of very rich people, and I am a humble attorney.

Good Luck

Oliver Greye

She could not help but smile. She knew he spoke truth about Mama Maggie, and she found herself laughing at the image of Oliver putting on boots, only to find them full of rain water. She imagined that he yelped, perhaps even stumbling over one of the dogs. Still chuckling, she pulled out a paper from the desk, and proceeded to reply.

My Clumsy Mr. Greye,

Yes, rain does have a terrible tendency to find its way into anything left outside. I am glad you have written as soon as you have, for I find being the guest of "rich people" is somewhat taxing.

Tell Mama Maggie that I will be very cross if she boxes your ears. Those exact words mind you, or she won't believe you. I am glad you liked her though. You didn't say you did, but I'm just going to assume the fact.

I am glad that my records are sufficient for such a prominent attorney. Oh yes, did I mention that several of Vivian's friends are complaining because they are without their excellent employee? It seems you are quite in demand in London.

I look forward to your next letter, as I was immensely pleased to have received the first.

P.S. Don't leave your boots out again.

Regards

Rose Silksome

She finished writing the letter with a flurry of her signature. She folded it carefully and addressed it hurriedly before rushing out of the room to find a footman. She was still smiling at the letter when she ran straight into Charles' chest as she rounded a corner. She was momentarily dazed by the solid nature of aforementioned chest.

"My apologies. I was somewhat lost in my own head sir." Rose offered as she stepped around him, but a lock of her hair had become wedged around one of his jacket buttons, and it jerked her back. She was close enough to feel his deep laughter resonate through her.

"I am sorry sir. I can never fully tame this unruly mess," She laughed as she tried to untangle the offending lock. She found that she had no idea how it was attached, and only succeeded in tangling it further. She sighed in frustration and dropped her arms to her side. Again, Charles laughed.

"Allow me," He said, taking to the task. Rose braced herself for the pulling and possible breaking of her hair. Men never had any clue how to handle long hair. To her surprise, she only felt a light pulling as he gently unwound her hair, his fingers deftly untangling it. She soon found herself free, and she tucked the hair back into her simple coiffure.

"Thank you, I must admit I am surprised that you did not just pull it off,"

"I do know how to handle fragile objects Rose," She looked up into his face, seeing much more than what he said. His eyes were gleaming with something she did not understand, and his lowered voice sent shivers through her.

"I uh," She cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone dry, "I must find a footman. I have a letter to send," She offered a shy smile as she explained her hurry.

"Allow me, I have a few of my own to send," He held his hand out, and she set the letter in his palm lightly. She smiled and curtsied a little, realizing after that it had been the first time she had done so to her employer. She then returned to her room.

Charles smiled as he watched her go. He saw that he had affected her, and surprised her with his natural gentleness. He then glanced down at the letter.

Mr. Oliver Greye, Lorebury Estate –shire

His smile faded, and he resisted the urge to crumple the letter in his hand. He found he had a strong dislike for Mr. Greye. Especially when his name was scrawled so carefully in Rose's distinct handwriting.

"You have been in a state all afternoon Charles, I do hope you lighten up by the time we go to the ball." Jacob slapped him on the shoulder before picking up a random book and beginning to read.

"It's nothing. Just my typical foul temper obviously." Charles muttered. In truth, he was supremely annoyed at the familiarity already occurring between Mr. Greye and Rose. He told himself that whatever he was feeling was silly and that he should focusing on Elaine, but every time she was in view, he found himself searching for Rose. Elaine was caked in a fake flowery scent and bright, audacious colors and the very sight of her was beginning to wear on his senses. Rose, on the other hand, had a light leather scent, and was almost always dressed in flattering, dark colors. They were two very different ends of the spectrum.

"Share your thoughts Charles. If you don't I worry that your face will be stuck in a perpetual scowl." Jacob laughed without looking up from his book. Charles became suddenly aware at the depth of which he was scowling.

"It is the usual as of late, Jacob. I do like Elaine, I want to feel more than I do for her, but Rose is..." he paused as the memory of her thanking him for heavens know what filled his mind, "Everything and yet nothing that I want!"

"I am not sure I understand old boy,"

"She is stubborn and never seems to do what I ask her too, or at least not HOW I ask her to. And I find that admirable and irritating all at once. I want a vibrant partner, and Rose is very severe, yet I have seen a side of her that is mischeivious and slightly rambunctious. She isn't immediately beautiful, but the longer I look at her, the more radiant she is to me. I don't understand it at all. I wish she were gone, but when she is, I constantly await her return!" Charles had taken to pacing as he explained the tangled ball of twine that was his tender emotions. He had yet to find out what Rose was hiding, but this passed from his mind quickly as the women in their party entered the room.

"Jacob! We found Rose the perfect dress," Vivian gushed ,"She will definitely steal the spotlight from me simply by wearing it," Rose blushed fiercely and took to examining the floor. Elaine brushed passed them, a cloud of perfume following her into the room.

"My dress is simply divine Charles, simply divine," She smiled demurely as she took a seat next to Jacob, but kept her eyes locked on Charles. He attempted a smile, but it resulted in a mere crinkling of one side of his mouth.

"How lovely. Uh, Vivian what did you find?" He attempted to put the attention elsewhere.

"Oh I didn't get one. I received a gem of a gown from a Marchioness." Vivian shared a quick glance with Rose.

"Since when have you known a Marchioness dear?" Jacob had never heard of his fiancé knowing such a person.

"Oh it's felt like ages dear, she is a wonderful person. Maybe you can meet her soon." Vivian smiled slyly. Jacob was still confused, but shook it off, as he found it was easier to just go along with her.

"We should get ready Viv," Elaine stood abruptly and almost flounced out into the hallway.

"I'll help you first Rose, I want to personally insure that you look perfect," Vivian clapped her hands together before pushing Rose out the door, even as she attempted a small wave that only Charles saw. He felt his lips spread in a wide grin. It was then that it hit him.

"Merciful heavens, she's shy!" He blurted out loud. Jacob raised an eyebrow and stood, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You are slow my friend. I knew that the instant I met her." Jacob shook his head.

"You look beautiful," Vivian smiled affectionately at her friend as she spun slowly, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

"I thought this was a black and white ball Viv!" Rose cried as she examined herself in the silky red gown, complete with black pearls strung in intricate patterns across her bosom and down the long sleeves.

"Oh, it is." Vivian laughed as Rose fretted.

"I'll stand out like a cow among rabbits!" She said aghast. Silently she appreciated the gorgeous gown, and loved the feeling of the silk against her skin again.

"That was the whole point! How could Charles resist you in that?" She raised an eyebrow when Rose swung around to glare at her. She saw that her friend was going through the same thought process however. Rose had to admit that she _felt_ beautiful, not just looked the part. It had been so long since she had worn a dress of this quality and she felt a little piece of herself, the proud and confident Marchioness, fall back into place.

"Everyone will think I'm some sort of harlot Viv!"

"Nonsense, I will just explain that I demanded you wear that very dress. See? Problem solved, as no one will argue with the bride." Vivian looked out the window, a longing overtaking her features, softening her grin to a delicate whisper of a smile, "I'm getting married tomorrow Rose. I'll finally be Vivian Eames. Oh Rose, if only your first love had been like this."

"What does it feel like Viv?" Rose sat on the edge of the bed, her leg tucked up under her hip, "To be so unconditionally loved?" Vivian felt the desire to feel such emanate from the woman. Profound sadness had tainted any feeling of love she had felt.

"Oh Rose, there is no other feeling like it. I know he would still love me if I were hideously deformed, or completely insane. It feels…..warm. Like a blossom of heat in my heart and I feel so _safe_." She felt there was no other way to explain it. Rose scowled in confusion, but said no more on the subject.

"I hear you received a letter from a certain attorney," Vivian poked Rose's arm, silently urging her to tell all. A small ghost of a smile tugged at her lips before it burst into a full out grin.

"I did. He dined with Mama Maggie, which I know it interesting, but he likes her. He said he left his boots out in the rain. I think he might be more clumsy than I," A soft laugh escaped as she shook her head. Vivian gently squeezed her friends hand before turning her back around.

"Now then, let me attack this unruly mop of curls," She laughed, before taking a brush and several pins and slowly molding Rose's hair into a tidy braid. Then she really went to work.

"This is ridiculous Jacob. Why are you making me wait with you?" Charles fidgeted and shifted his weight back and forth. They now stood a steady vigil at the bottom of the curved staircase in the ballroom, waiting for Vivian to make her entrance, along with her brides maids.

"Because you are my best man! It is your honor to escort the maid of honor, and you will do so happily."

"Don't you mean it's my duty," He rolled his eyes. Town was really starting to wear on him. He missed the quiet tranquility of Lorebury. The thought of Lorebury, and Mr. Oliver Greye occupying it, made Charles clench his fists, and take on a brooding countenance. The sooner he and Rose….His thoughts were interrupted as everyone hushed and Vivian appeared at the top of the stairs.

Her gown was a silky cream color, with miniscule gems sewn into the skirt, making each step glitter. The bodice had a delicate lace overlay, with a black ribbon accentuating her waist. Her hair was swept to the side, large ringlets cascading down her left shoulder.

"She is a goddess…" Jacob breathed out, even as his breath was stolen from his body. She gliding down the stairs and took Jacob's hand. She turned a strange smile to Charles. Charles turned his attention back to the stairs, awaiting Elaine, as Jacob whisked Vivian to the middle of the ballroom floor. Charles felt his knees go weak, and he resorted to grasping onto the railing to keep himself standing, as Rose shyly drifted to the top of the stairs.

The dark red gown seemingly reflected the light, drawing each eye to her. The black pearls directed ones eyes to take in the whole dress, with its black ribbons and lace overlaying the rich red of the silk. Her hair was braided and pinned up, three or four braids each intersecting one another to hold it all in place, with one or two small ringlets at the base of her neck. One stray curl graced her paling cheek. She seemed to Charles an ethereal being as she made her way down the stairs towards him.

"I thought this was supposed to be a black and white event," Charles managed to say in a hushed tone, even though he was surprised he could make a sound, as she lightly took his extended hand. She blushed deeply in embarrassment.

"So did I. The dress I tried on was white. Vivian took the liberty of ordering it in red. Everyone must think I am either deluded or a harlot." She looked around the room at the multitude of eyes staring at her. She took to her usual habit of inspecting the floor.

"I can assure you that no one is thinking either of those things." He managed to say as he turned her, gently putting his hand on her waist. She responded by immediately placing her free hand on his shoulder, so lightly that Charles barely felt it. Almost as if she was repulsed to even be touching him. The thought sent a bolt of pain to where he thought his heart must be.

"It has been a long time since I have done anything like this." He heard her whisper, her breath just barely tickling his ear. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes to see that she was staring holes into his shoulder. Turning his head to look directly at her, he hoped to draw her eyes from his jacket seams.

"Well you dance very well for not having done so for a while. I am sure you would do even better if you weren't completely entranced with my sleeve," It had the desired effect as she blushed and turned her eyes to meet his.

"I feel like everyone is staring."

"That's because they are," Was all he said as they continued to sweep elegant curves around the ballroom. Charles noticed that Elaine had been paired with one of Jacobs many cousins, and she appeared none to happy at the fact either, often shooting daggers at Rose's back. Charles admitted to himself that one of the main reasons he had been dreading the night was her.

"If you wish to dance with Miss Haewood, I would not hold it against you." The dejected tone in her words almost caused him to trip. In truth, Elaine had begun to get on his nerves. She never seemed to leave him alone, and she came off as so false when she spoke with anyone. And it irked him that her poisoned words were sugar coated when directed to the woman he now held in his arms.

"I am perfectly content where I am." He smiled when she shot him a surprised look. They spent the evening together, drifting between groups of people, Charles being the only one to converse, but he insisted that Rose stay on his arm. She wore a confused expression most of the night.

As the night drew to a close, they stood next to Jacob and Vivian as they bid their guests farewell. A long line had formed, and Charles took notice that every now and then Rose would glance nervously down its length.

"I can hardly imagine you would know anyon-" His reassuring words were cut short as she tore herself from him and flew in a billow of red up the stairs. She kept her face turned from the room as she disappeared into a side hallway. Vivian shot him a questioning look, to which he could only respond with a confused shrug.

Charles followed Vivian to find Rose once everyone was gone, and they eventually found her in the library. She was staring out a window overlooking the street. Her shoulders quivered with suppressed tears. Vivian instantly went to her side, while Charles hung back. He couldn't hear their conversation, but he grew concerned enough to draw closer as Vivian suddenly stiffened and grew uncharacteristically pale.

"Tell her that she is safe here Charles." Charles was confused but obliged.

"Vivian is right. You are safe here Rose, nothing will happen to you while you're here. I-we would never let something happen to you," He rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, which shivered under it.

"Th-thank you. I think I will retire though," She slipped away and down to her room before Charles could think of words to make her stay.

Rose quaked as she entered her room, and the maid provided for her helped her to undress. As she slipped on her nightgown, she saw another letter resting on a tray by the door. Rose smiled, as she enjoyed the thought of reading another of Oliver's letters. When she got closer though, she saw that there was no writing on the envelope.

"Hmm." She hummed as she tore open the wax seal. Her maid screamed as her mistress collapsed to her knees, a hand braced against the wall. The letter fluttered to the ground, its swirling script facing upwards.

Hello My Darling Marchioness.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Vivian was fully unaware of the state of her friend when she knocked on the door the next morning.

"Rose? Will you still be helping me today?" Her voice was slightly muffled by the door. When there was no answer, she inched open the door. The immaculate bed had obviously not been slept in, and the red gown still hung limply on a chair. The curtains had been drawn, leaving the room dark, and there was a distinct sent of tears.

"Rose?" Vivian whispered, a little frighten by the sudden change. She jumped when a choked whisper sounded from the corner on the opposite side of the bed.

"He's here." Vivian inched around the bed till she beheld the disaster that was Rose. She was still in her dressing gown, and it was obvious by the dark, black, circles under her eyes that she had not slept all night. Her hair was frizzy and had been subject to her frustrated pulling, which resulted in the curls being drawn back in a tangled mat.

"Good Heavens! What is the matter?" Vivian pulled her up, her whole body shaking and her skin was as cold as a winter morning. Setting Rose gently on the bed, she took charge and opened the curtains, pulling a sharp cry from the shivering form on the bed.

"I'm sorry Viv, I am sure I'm ruining your wedding day. Let me just clean myself up and I'll help you get ready," Rose could not even manage a smile as she stood, attempting to pull herself together.

"Oh no you don't," Vivian pushed her back down, "They can't start without me anyway. What has broken you down so rapidly? You seemed so content with Charles last night!" She felt her own eyes tear up as Rose looked at her with dark, haunted, pain-filled eyes. She was so pale, more pale than Vivian had seen before.

"He was at the ball last night Viv," She barely managed to choke out in a hoarse voice, "He was there. And he knows I'm here. " The shaking began, with enough force for Vivian to feel it down to her bones.

"Who?"

"Sebastion Viv! He was there!"

"He couldn't have! Only people with an invitation could get it! And no Sebastion Rivera was on that list!" But Rose kept shaking her head.

"I saw him! And I cannot forget that face." The certainty in the tone, and absolute terror in her being convinced Vivian that Rose spoke truly. Vivian stood, pacing.

"We have to tell Jacob. If he had an invite, then he will probably be at the wedding today. We can't have him knowing where you call home now."

"He already knows I'm here! He put a letter in my room last night. Mercy, he knows where I am!" Came the cry of despair. Much louder than Rose had intended. Within moments, Jacob had burst in, with a concerned look on his face.

"What is- oh Rose what on earth?" He took in the disheveled person that was usually the picture of decorum.

"Jacob, I need to tell you a few things," Vivian said seriously, pulling him from the room, demanding that Rose get dressed. Once the door closed with a soft click, Rose took to cleaning herself up. She put on a dark blue gown and wetted her hair to restore the curls before struggling to pull them back. She swore under her breath about the incompetency of the maid that had fled the second she fell on the floor that night.

Upon exiting her room, a footman approached her.

"There is a caller for you Miss. I have placed him in the library." And with that, he walked away before he could notice the terror building in her face. With stiff limbs she mad e her way to the room, clenching and unclenching her fists. As she rounded a corner, she slammed right into a familiar broad chest.

"My apologies." Rose couldn't bring her gaze up from Charles' chest to look him in the eyes. She could hear from his tone that he was in a good mood, but she did not see the concern in his features.

"The fault was mine sir. If you will excuse me," She pushed her way around him, her eyes fixed on the library door. Charles continued to watch as she stopped in front of the library, every muscle tense, and her breathing shallow. Her hands shook as she grasped the door handles, and her face turned a frightening white pale. He was about to go to her, in fear that she would collapse when she abruptly shoved the doors open and strode in with a posture akin to royalty. Steps away from the door, intent on following her, he heard her voice.

"Oliver!? I mean, Mr. Greye! What on earth!" Charles began grinding his teeth before throwing himself back up the stairs to assist Jacob. What did he care if Mr. Oliver Greye surprised Rose? Ridiculous.

"Miss Haewood insisted that I attend. And I was very happy to accept." Oliver smiled, his tousled hair evidence that he had readied himself in a hurry. One of his vest buttons was askew and his cravat was almost sideways. His kind grey eyes instantly put her at ease. Her tension melted away as a laugh bubbled out of her. He scowled slightly.

"What? Do I have something on me?" He frantically ran his fingers over his slightly stubbled chin in worry.

"No," She laughed again, "But you look like a small child took care of your dressing today."

Oliver glanced down at his disheveled vest and cravat, and a fierce blushed covered his cheeks as he laughed nervously.

"Ah. I was in somewhat of a hurry." They sat in companionable silence for a spell before Oliver expelled a rush of air into his face. Rose quirked her eyebrow, waiting for the words that so obviously urged to force their way from his lips. Oliver took great notice of this often repeated gesture and found it charming. He found himself lost as the arching brow drew his attention to her green eyes, that were speckled with gold and brown in certain light.

"I-I find that I am very…drawn to you Miss Silksome. I would like to have more opportunities to get to know you, if that is acceptable to you and your employer." Oliver stuttered adorably. Rose blushed slightly at the attention, but she found that her heart maintained its steady rythme, so different from the jolted cadence it reverted to whenever Charles was near.

"I think that would be-"

"Caller for you in the sitting room Miss," The butler abruptly interrupted her. Rose creased her eyebrows together, standing slowly, and brushed out the non-existent creases in her skirt.

"Excuse me for a moment Mr. Greye, my apologies," She turned a stiff bow in his direction before striding to the sitting room, forcing open the doors. When the figure on the couch stood, she gasped, covering her mouth.

"Hello my darling," Sebastion's voice oozed with affection, "You look so well. A bit pale but still beautiful."

Rose paled further. Her tormentor, the reason for all her pain was shooting a gleaming smile at her. His tailored suit was sleek and fit him well, accenting his wiry build that tapered to a slim waist. His dark black hair was slicked back to perfection, and his skin held the glow of someone who spent leisurely hours in the sun.

"W-what are y-you doing h-here," Rose stuttered, leaning heavily on a door. Sebastion glided over to her, leaning close to her, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"I must keep your tongue in check my dear Marchioness," He whispered seductively, one hand resting on her trembling shoulder, "It must have been ages since you have heard your real name my darling, I know the pain of that,"

"Get out," She said, shaking. He smiled brightly as he pulled away from her, "Sebastion, get. Out."

"Ah, my name for your lips is such a blessing my lovely Rose, a blessing indeed," And with that, he slipped out the front door. Rose exited the room as the door clicked shut. She placed a hand on her abdomen to stop the quivering ill feeling wrestling around in her stomach, the other placed lightly on a table to keep her standing. Her breath came out in ragged gasps.

"Who on earth were you meeting with?" Charles found himself snapping at her from the top of the stairs. He saw the tremble of her shoulders and the red creeping into her cheeks. Her eyes locked with his, and they were hollow and empty.

"My lord," Charles muttered, quickly dashing down the stairs to her side. As he drew closer, he could see that her trembling was full on shaking, "What is the matter? " Rose's tears startled him. They came in full force, racking her body with sobs.

"I'm dead," she muttered, "He is going to kill me."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"What on earth does she mean?" Oliver stood in an open doorway, the ease that was previously in his stance gone. Charles exchanged a look with him that spoke of the deepest confusion concerning the woman desperately trying to heave in breaths in his arms.

"Vivian!" She gasped before rushing up the stairs and out of sight. Charles stayed downstairs with Oliver, even though every fiber of his being longed to run after the woman and draw her back into his arms. He found it strange, these sudden yearnings of his heart. They had never been so prevalent at Lorebury, and he wondered if it was the fact that he was not her guardian here. He found Elaine completely forgotten in the back of his mind, as he found everything about her suddenly and cloyingly false.

Oliver soon explained that he must return to his hotel and promptly left. Charles watched as the door clicked behind Oliver, suddenly realizing that he disliked the man greatly. It was clear that Rose liked him, and it was more feasible for the two to have a relationship than himself. Remembering the disheveled appearance of the lawyer, he clenched his fists. Could Rose find such carelessness ….attractive? Could she see the potential for love with that man? The thought set his teeth to grinding. With sudden determination, he bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time. He rushed to the sitting room, burst in quite loudly, and found Vivian gaping at Rose.

"Ch-" Vivian began, but a glance at Rose froze her speech, but she turned a full glare at the pale woman. Charles expected that it was because her wedding morning was being disastrously interrupted.

"YOU HAVEN'T TOLD HIM?!" Vivian roared. Rose jumped back slightly, while Charles fell deeper into the depths of confusion. Rose shrugged and glanced apologetically at him. Vivian shoved her towards him, and he caught her as she stumbled back into his chest, "You go tell him this instant! He can help and you know it!" Vivian finished her hands on her hips, the fury the likes of which Charles had never seen etched into her face. Rose nodded slightly, then pushed herself further against Charles' chest, who then directed her out of the room and to a small bench near a window at the end of the hall.

Once she was seated, Charles observed her for a minute. Her pale complexion was flawless, excepting the red splotches that began to appear as tears welled up in her blue green eyes, and her top teeth bit at her lower lip in an attempt to keep it from quivering.

"What is it?" He whispered gently. The soft caress of caring words caused the tears to spill over, and she brought her hands up to cover the spectacle. Her shoulders shook, so Charles sat next to her and hesitantly grazed his hand over her back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. She leaned into his side and clutched at his jacket until the tears stopped.

"I-the man I just met with, he-I-ugh I will tell you after the wedding Charles." He gave her a skeptical look, "I promise."

With a nod of his head, he helped her to her feet, his hand lingering on her waist just a moment longer than was necessarily appropriate. She visibly set her shoulders back, before wiping her face in an undignified manner on her sleeve, and strode back to her room confidently. Charles looked after her with a look of longing on his features, one that she never saw.

Upon entering her room, Rose deflated. She had so wanted to keep her composure in front of Charles. She stood there, leaning on her door for several minutes before she made up her mind. She was done running. She had people she cared about again, and she would not let Sebastion Rivera hurt a single one of them.

She sat at her desk and whipped out some paper, scrawling a note quickly before searching for the footman. She inquired if the man had left a calling card, and the footman confirmed that he had. She then handed over the note, demanding that it be taken to the man calling himself Rupert Hargrave immediately. Her demand was followed.

A reply came only an hour later.

You, my darling. And your silence.

The wedding went off without further incident, and everyone present sighed at the sweet nature with which the couple exchanged vows, all while gazing lovingly in each other's eyes. The woman practically swooned, either hoping for a love like that, or wishing they had married someone they loved like that. The men just rolled their eyes.

After the ceremony, the couple was sent off to their honeymoon, each smiling and waving as they drove away, sharing several kisses that they could now publicly show. Charles again felt the pang of longing for that kind of love. His gaze inadvertently went to Rose, who stood nearby in a light blue muslin dress, gazing after the couple with the same longing carved into her features, with a dark shadow drawing the corners of her mouth downward at the corners.

"Come, I believe you owe me an explanation," He gently pushed Rose to a carriage, his full hand on the small of her back, truly fearing that she would bolt and not explain the morning if he did not.

They arrived back at the house, and Charles again directed Rose into the library.

"Tell me what this is all about." He crossed his arms, standing in front of the door.

"The man I met with this morning was my fiancé." She said after a deep breath. He gestured for her to continue.

"It was three years ago. My parents were quite wealthy and my dowry and inheritance were not insubstantial. We met at an opera. I was a rebellious girl and I insisted on being engaged to him, even though my parents voiced several complaints. Soon after he demanded that I take out my inheritance and give it to him or he would kill my parents after marrying me and getting my dowry," She explained in a numb voice, "I did, but a few weeks later, I found my parents dead anyway. I knew I was no longer safe, so I escaped to England to stay with my uncle. The gardener you met at the college. You know the rest really. He came this morning to make sure I stayed silent about who he really is. All I can tell you is that his name is Sebastion Rivera, not Rupert Hargrave as he claims." She finished speaking, and suddenly found her nails very intriguing.

"So you are not Rose Silksome?"

"No."

"And you are not a poor gardeners daughter?"

"No."

"And now I should suppose that you knew exactly who I was! You probably planned out this whole thing just to get your wealth back!" He spat. He immediately felt sorry for the pain that entered her face.

"No! That isn't who I am! Maybe three years ago when I was still a spoiled child but I have since experience starvation and found I enjoy working for what I have! How could you possibly think so little of me!?" Disappointment made her throat and voice raw with pain.

"What else am I to suspect! You told me such lies!" Charles shouted, advancing on Rose.

"You know why I did so! Does it make no sense to you! It is all my fault that my parents were murdered and I almost wish myself never to have been born as to prevent it and there you stand with your aristocratic views, judging me for nothing you have ever experienced and therefore know nothing about!" Determined not to be intimidated, she tried to stand her ground but found herself moving away until her back rested against the far wall.

"I believe my opinions are correct! I should throw you into the street! And were I not the generous man I am, I would surely do so!"

"Why do you suppose you are right! Who are you to judge!?" They stood a few feet apart, Rose pressed to the wall, and Charles holding himself back.

"I'm an earl!" With this, Rose surged forward, pressing her face towards Charles', glaring at him with a raging fire of anger.

"You are a man!"

"And you are a woman!"

"Yes, and I outrank you in every way! I have seen the hardships of life. I have slept in the street and stolen food. I have faced more than you could imagine!" She pushed her self away again, feeling to keenly the warm of Charles.

"You are MY employee. You do NOT outrank me, you ungrateful-"

"I am the Marchioness De Le Fleur you great idiot," Rose practically whispered as she sank to the floor. Charles stood stunned. He felt every fiber in his being revolt at yet another lie, and yet his heart told him she spoke truth. He unconsciously found his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder before he caught himself. Suddenly, he recalled the shadowy figure, the rumors, and the man that seemed to strike terror into Rose.

"That man…all the rumors are true, aren't they? I heard of a French Aristocrat a few years ago that just disappeared. People said her fiancé murdered her. "

"Yes, Sebastion is one of those revolutionaries that want to see the aristocrats dead and all their wealth go to men like him."

"Miss," he paused, feeling that the word was all wrong," Rose. We will fix this." Rose turned to him with eyes filled with pain and grief. Her pale blue dress pillowed out around her as she rested on the floor.

"No, we are not. I am." A solitary tear streaked down her cheek as the knock on the door resounded hollowly.

A/N

Hi! I am really new to this and I dislike these notes at the end so there won't be many.

That being said, I want to thank everyone that had read this far, and I am always grateful for your reviews.

I can't guarantee when I will update this story, but I will try to make it soon-ish.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N- Here is to not turning blue, and the glorious thing called breathing.

* * *

Chapter 12

"What?" Charles shouted, as the door had not been opened.

"A man for Miss Silksome sir. He says to bring her bags?" A footman's muffled voice came through the door, filled with uncertainty. Charles returned his gaze to Rose, who still sat on floor, but she was suddenly petrified and found her own gaze locked on the door, unblinking.

"You didn't. Oh tell me you didn't Rose!" Charles pleaded, hoping to change what he already knew. He found his breathing had turned ragged, and his voice was raw. The sudden piercing lance of feeling to his heart forced him to realize that his heart would break if he never saw this woman again.

"He threatened Vivian and Jacob and….and you if I did not go with him. I will not let more people be hurt because of me." She said with a determined grimace on her face. She could not know that by leaving, she was causing a pain worse than death or injury.

"But I love you Rose," The whisper was so quiet and so hoarse that he barely realized it was him that spoke. Rose closed her eyes, and her chest jolted forward slightly in the attempt to hold in tears, "Don't go."

Rose stood, eyes still closed and refusing to look at him, then smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. With shaking legs, she drifted slowly to the door, placing her equally shaking hand on the doorknob.

"I love you too," He barely heard it before she rushed down the hall to the front door.

"Rose!" Charles burst into a run after her, shouting her name. He didn't actually think she would leave. He caught the front door as it was closing, and ripping it back open, he jumped down the front steps, only seeing the back of carriage being driven away.

"ROSE!" He was rewarded with the sight of her pale face turning back to look at him, before a gloved hand grasped her chin and turned it forward. Charles watched until the carriage disappeared, and stayed riveted on the street as pain of the most acute kind sent torrents of longing, anger, and a feeling of destitution through his body.

Only the footman clearing his throat, after a time that felt like ages but was in truth only moments, brought him back to the present. He shuffled inside, completely numb, and made his was back to the library. As he lowered himself into a chair positioned so he could stare at the last spot he saw her, he noticed a pale envelope resting on the table near the door. With aching bones and heart, he retrieved it and sat back down. He immediately recognized _her_ scrawling hand.

**_Charles_**

He tore into the envelope, extricating the letter within.

**_Charles,_**

**_If only I could tell you where I will be going, but in truth not even I know. I will not be seeing you again, unless by some miracle my tormentor dies, or is put in prison. Know that if something of that sort happens, I will traverse oceans and fields if only to see you again._**

**_I love you, Charles._**

**_I know I have given you no base to believe what I say, but it is true. You are infuriating, stubborn, and often clueless but I love you. You are kind and generous and trusting. I gave you no reason to truly trust me and you did. For the first time in some years, I felt safe. For you I am sure it was just a way to pass the time but I enjoyed our conversations immensely, and in those I saw you and your incredible heart. I know though, that someone else has caught your attention, and I wish you both happiness. Lord, it tears my heart in two to say as much, but I will not be a barrier to your happiness in life. Thank you again for the kindness and friendship you brought into my life. Give my best to Viv and Jacob._**

**_With all my love,_**

**_Rose De la Fleur_**

The pain in his heart began anew. This woman gave no thought to the fact that he might feel the same. Granted, the realization was still fresh to him, but had he not tried to show her and at every moment she pushed him away? Maybe she did not love him. But even as he thought it, he dispelled it. It was so clear upon review. Every time she had seen him with Elaine, she stiffened and her words were clipped. She had been at ease and had even leaned into him as they danced at the wedding ball. He even found himself reflecting fondly on their many arguments, some of which made perfect sense now. The subject of only marrying women with sufficient dowries had struck a cord, a sore spot. They had literally been speaking about the cause of her parents death, which she had erroneously blamed herself for.

"Can she not see it is that evil man and not her?" He found himself speaking out loud.

"I am to be your estate manager until you can hire a new one," Oliver Greye stood sullenly in the doorway of the library. He too held a letter with Rose's handwriting covering it. Charles looked at the man, and saw the same sort of sadness reflected back at him. Charles stood and walked until he was only a foot from the other man.

"No."

"No?" Oliver asked.

"We are finding her. The estate," Charles' lips curled in disgust, as the thought of worrying about something as material as his land twisted his gut in revulsion," It can wait. Rose cannot."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Rose sat on the floor, her tattered dress arranged to cover her crossed legs, watching Sebastion pace in front of her. If anything, he had only become more handsome, but still repulsive in her eyes. His sun kissed skin had an even, healthy glow that was only complimented by his slicked back jet hair. His chocolate brown eyes had the luster of insanity. He cut quite the figure in his tailored suit coat and trousers that accentuated his thin but muscular build.

"Tell me how to get it," He growled, looking down at the pale woman sitting on the floor. She looked up at him with glazed eyes and a blank expression. Slowly, she pushed her way up the wall till she stood, shoulders back but eyes tired.

"There is nothing left Sebastion. You took it all when I disappeared and you killed me parents."

A swift smack flared fresh pain in her cheek. The left side of her face was horribly bruises, black and purple marring the once white flesh. She made no sound, only looked back to Sebastion.

"Lies! You are lying! There's more, there has to be!" Sebastion's voice oozed insanity and instability. He threw himself onto the settee in front of the fireplace, rubbing his temples before smoothing back his already slick hair.

"What happened to your fortune Sebastion? Oh wait. Let me guess. You wasted it all on gambling and women." Rose accused blandly, as if she had nothing left in her. Sebastion surged at her with this, once again hitting her already bruised face.

"And what have you to say for yourself Marchioness De La Fleur? Sneaking off to England, living as a-a what? An estate manager? Living with a British man? What does that say for your reputation my flower?" He said sweetly, like a berry dipped in acid. Rose set her jaw, clenching her fists to avoid hitting him.

"I was employed at the house. It was perfectly respectable. And I have let go of the misguided notion that the English are evil. Charles is a good man. One you could never be." She spat. Another resounding slap sent her to the floor, the already dim room disappearing as her eye swelled shut.

"How about we pay him a visit?"

* * *

"He is very skilled at disappearing. After London, there has been no sign of him. Even the Bow Street Runner didn't find anything." Oliver pushed his way into the library, where Charles had stacked all the books he had been reading on the floor surrounding the desk. The haggard eyes turned to the floor.

"It's been three weeks Oliver. What hope have we of finding her?" Charles laid his head down on the desk. He had returned to Lorebury in hopes that he could still search for Rose without neglecting his estate. He had reviewed and read in depth the ledgers that she had left, refusing to let Oliver manage things. Looking at her hand writing had not helped his already declining state. Charles had grown pale, never venturing outside, and had developed a sickly state of health.

"And? What are you just going to give up? Leave her with that psychopath? And here I was under the impression that you were a man." Oliver sneered, dropping a letter on the desk before storming out the door. Charles stared blankly after him. Staring at the letter, he found his hand tracing over his name scrawled on the envelope.

First pain surged to his heart. The word was hers, as he was. Fury followed closely behind, as he found himself blaming himself for letting her go, for letting her slip away just as they had finally addressed the what was happening between them. A roar built up in his belly, erupting from his throat as he stood and grasped the edge of the simple wooden desk and throwing it across the room. He stood, breathe heaving for a moment before crumpling back to the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Six months. That was the full length of time Rose had been in his life, and she had utterly crippled him. His guarded heart had been ripped open unintentionally and she now had a piece that he was sure he would never get back. In truth, he didn't want it back, he just wanted her. Her presence back in his life, her quiet and calm demeanor and the scent of leather and rain that followed where ever she went. He wanted Rose. He wanted to wrap her in his arms again and refuse to let her be torn from him. He wanted the library to be occupied by someone other than himself.

Oliver inched open the door, fearful of more flying objects.

"Are you alright Fyrmont?" He shot a concerned look at the man heaped on the floor.

"We are never going to find her, for all we know she is dead," Charles knew she wasn't, rationalizing that he would have felt something, but it was the only excuse he could think of that allowed him to even utter his next statement.

"Go home Oliver. I am done looking."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Rose stared blankly ahead, avoiding looking at Sebastion. He had finally given her a dress to change into, and for that she was only minutely grateful. Her dress had become quite tattered from wearing it for weeks, but Sebastion had explained that he needed her to look presentable for the carriage he had hired.

"Where is this Lorebury?" Sebastion grabbed Rose's chin, forcing her to look at him, "Come now Rose, darling." As the weeks had gone by, the evidence that Sebastion was certifiably mad had become very apparent. Rose had noted that on occasion, especially whenever he came back from the gentleman's club he frequented, he would act as though they were still courting and he was still trying to get her inheritance and dowry. It was also the look in his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark brown irises had this strange glint in them, that could only be described as a spark of insanity.

"I won't help you get closer to Charles," Rose's voice held nothing in it, but she directed all the hatred in her body into the glare fired in his direction. He lifted his hand as if to hit her again, but tilted his head and appeared to think the better of it.

"Very well. I will just find out for myself." With that, Sebastion stuck her cheek anyway before stomping out, leaving her once again locked in a hotel room. The second the door was closed, Rose pulled out the parchment she had managed to find, and the small bit of ink. She frantically scrawled out a short note, which she left at the dinner table of the hotel each night. She had found aid in the owners wife, who had quickly picked up that something was not right about the man who had paid for two rooms, often locking the one and not allowing her to enter. She had heard Rose beating on the door and unlocked it anyway. Rose had been so close to escaping, but Sebastion had bounded up the stairs and down the hallway just in time to shove her back in the room and threaten the woman.

Sebastion returned hours later, sufficiently drunk. He stumbled in, his face red and angry, his clothing rumpled and torn. He grasped her arm and yanked her from the room, dragging her down the stairs. Rose frantically tried to escape his grasp but when she found she could not, she threw the note onto the floor. Sebastion could barely even see, so he did not notice her action.

"Go," He shoved her out the main door, and pushed her up into a carriage. He fumbled his way in after her, slamming the carriage door, "We are going to Lorebury darling."

The smile that the insane and dangerous man across from her had twisting his face was enough to make her blood run cold.

* * *

Charles had tried to go back to his normal life. He had put out an advertisement for an estate manager, and had taken over the ledgers himself for the time being. When Oliver had expressed his worry, explaining that he felt that Charles was trying to hide his own feelings by taking over Rose's work, Charles had launched an old ledger at his face. The library was in absolute shambles. Books lay open and cast aside everyway, covering even the arm chairs. The adjoining door to the room that had housed Rose was kept locked.

Charles himself had changed. Dark circles had become pronounce beneath his eyes, and his normally clean shaved face had grown a thick layer of scruff, his carefully tousled hair had evolved into a tangled mess, often ensnaring his fingers as he tried to run them through the thick mass. His face had aged and become drawn in the five weeks the woman had been missing.

Oliver had quit the estate, sending his regrets via letter to Charles, expressing that he had wanted to stay but he couldn't continue to watch his new friend deteriorate so quickly.

Charles had scoffed at the letter when he first read it.

"You are dissipating to nothing Charles," He spoke aloud in a mocking tone, "I can't see you this way," For the longest time he was bitter and thought of the man as a coward, but after a week he could see the reason. He had begun to avoid the mirrors religiously.

He was in the middle of organizing a ledger, wondering how Rose had managed all of this work and still had free time when his housekeeper, Mrs. Swift, entered the library, stepping gingerly over the strewn about books.

"Visitor sir. Demands to see you." Her voice was clipped and annoyed. She had grown impatient with her masters strange behavior and distant conversing. Charles slowly looked up at her, as if drugged, and nodded that he would be down in a moment. Mrs. Swift rejoiced inwardly, as this had been the first sign that her master was possibly recovering from being torn from Rose. He had told her that she was not Rose Silksome, but Marchioness Rose De La Fleur. She had not been surprised. She had always commented to the maids that the quiet estate manager held herself and spoke with too high a manner to be a simple scholar.

Charles stood arching his back till it popped, then shuffled his way down to the entry hall. He leaned heavily on the banister as he dragged himself down the stairs. He looked up to see a well put together man inspecting a painting on the wall. He turned upon hearing Charles and smiled broadly, twisting his top hat in his hands.

"Mr. Fyrmont! It is indeed a pleasure!" He beamed and offered his hand to Charles, who shook it weakly before dropping it.

"Can I help you Mr…?" Charles dragged out his words in exhaustion.

"Clifton. Edward Clifton. I recently arrived in town and was hoping to find an estate to which I could offer my services." He straightened his cravat and placed his hat on a side table.

"What are your services, exactly?" Charles was already tired of the conversation. All he wanted to do was return to his room and sleep the next week away.

"I am an estate manager," Clifton scowled as if it were obvious. Charles took to staring at the man as if he were the devil. He definitely had the black slicked back hair of what Charles figured the devil looked like.

"Fine. Come back tomorrow and we will talk. Now get out." Charles snipped out then pounded back up the stairs and into his room, slamming so loud that the man in the entry way heard it.

"Sorry about the master Mr. Clifton. He has recently experienced a great loss." Mrs. Swift apologized.

"Oh it's perfectly alright," Clifton smiled in a crooked and wicked grin, "I think he will find what he lost returned to him soon. In a way."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Rose stared out the window, attempting to peer through the heavy mist thrown up by the rain, waiting for Sebastion to return. It was a half days ride to Lorebury from the town, and the shack in which he had locked her was a good three to four extra hours away. As much as she despised and revolted against the very idea of Sebastion, she found that she could not wish him dead. He was some poor woman's son and she couldn't bring herself to hope for that pain to enter that woman's life.

"If he stayed in town he will be fine," She muttered as she paced the sparsely furnished shack. A tattered rug, with holes eaten by either moths or mice revealed a dark stained floor that creaked with each step. The windows were grimy and cracked, letting in a cold draft rush through the space. A small and sagging settee was the only piece of furniture in the two room building.

"That also means I don't get to eat," She found that she was ok with that. She could go without food if it meant no Sebastion. Her formerly full figure had diminished in the weeks she had been held captive, and her pale skin had a sickly and malnourished pallor. Her eyes had become dull from lack of sunlight. She found the change in her appearance alarming. She knew that if she continued at this rate she would not survive to the end of a fortnight.

Rose fell asleep that night on the settee, curled up under the layers of her dress to keep the cold from her bones. She woke in the morning with a dull ache in her entire body and a pounding in her head. She realized later that day that it was very likely that Sebastion was not going to return for her.

* * *

"Sir, Mr. Clifton is here. I've placed him in the drawing room." Mrs. Swift snapped at Charles, who lay with his head on the desk in the library. He did not even raise his head.

"I'll be there momentarily Mrs. Swift," His voice was muffled, and the housekeeper responded with a huff and slammed the library door. Once again Charles dragged himself from the library and into the hall. He walked passed the portraits with his head down and shoulders hunched. He absent-mindedly ran two fingers lazily over the wall, as if doing so kept him grounded and allowed him to remember the way around his own home.

When he arrived at the drawing room door he just stared at the dark wood and sighed. He didn't want to hire anyone. He didn't want to meet with anyone, because that would only solidify that she was truly gone. From an outside perspective, his attachment would seem strange but it had been such a slow but steady discovery of his love of the simple things about the woman that had forever endeared her to him. With one final sigh, he opened the door and entered. Clifton stood from the sofa and smiled.

"Thank you for keeping our meeting," He bowed his head slightly, but he seemed stiff. Charles had a sudden feeling of suspicion but brushed it away. He gestured for Clifton to sit before talking his place leaning back against the window sill. He scratched at the scruff of his beard and ran his hand through his disaster of hair.

"What are your qualifications?"

"I was recently employed at an estate in the northern part of –shire and I provided my services there for seven years." Clifton spoke professionally, with that extra little bit of personality one always brings out when trying to impress someone.

"Why did you leave?"

"Why did I leave?" Clifton seemed at a loss.

"Yes, Clifton," Charles dragged his hand down his face in frustration, "Why did you leave when you had a perfectly good post?"

Clifton fumbled for words. He had obviously not been expecting such a question. Suddenly he turned to Charles, a dark glint in his eyes.

"The master's daughter tried to seduce me, so I left." Clifton smirked. Charles tried not to let the statement affect him. Several people had told him that Rose had just tried to seduce him, and when she saw it wouldn't work, she staged her whole disappearance. None of them understood that she had done nothing that could even be misconstrued as seduction, and if she had, it was far from unsuccessful.

"Get out," Charles hissed and stormed from the room.

"So am I not hir-"

"Start tomorrow."

* * *

"Sir, Mr. Clifton-"

"GO AWAY!" Charles groaned and curled up even further on the couch he had cleared of books. Mrs. Swift worried for her master, as he had not gone outside in weeks, and he rarely ate.

"He needs to know where to start his work, Sir."

"Just send him in here for goodness sake!" Charles shouted, before throwing himself off the couch and flopping into an armchair with his head in his hands. Mrs. Swift shook her head and quietly closed the door on the library. She clicked her way down the hall back to the entryway, where Mr. Clifton once again stood examining a portrait. She silently wondered what it was about the master's portrait that had so captured the attention of the man.

"If you'll follow me Mr. Clifton I will show you to the library. Please excuse the master for his…appearance and manners. That loss I spoke of still affects him direly."

Clifton followed her almost somberly, excepting a strange bounce of joviality in his step. His plastered on smile was ever broad and slightly chilling. When they arrived at the library door the housekeeper once again counseled the man not to mention the master's appearance. Clifton nodded his understanding then entered the library. He found he was extremely surprised by the disarray of the room and the owner.

"Mr. Fyrmont, I believe I can help you." Clifton grinned. Charles looked up and once again felt suspicion involving the man before him.

"How could YOU possibly help ME?" The disbelieving tone dripped with condescension. Clifton smiled and sat on the sofa across from Charles.

"I have your precious scholar you wretch,"

Charles shot up from the chair and glared down at the man he knew to be Sebastion. In one swift movement he grasped him by the collar and lifted him with strength he did not know he possessed, and practically bared his teeth at him.

"Where is she? Lord be my witness I will kill you Sebastion," He growled through clenched teeth. Sebastion still had that wicked smirk on his lips and a chuckle escaped him. Charles promptly hit the man with as much force as he could put behind one fist. Sebastion fell to the ground, grasping his newly broken nose.

"You will never see her again if you don't give me what I want." The cheery air of "Clifton" was gone and that barely evident spark of insanity replaced it.

"And what would that be," Charles found his chest heaving, filled with a new hope, and he found his correct frame of mind returning to him. He became increasingly aware of how atrocious he looked and behaved.

"Every last bit of your fortune." Sebastion sneered. Charles felt the pit in his stomach grow. He could not do that no matter how much he wished to.

"I can't do that and you know it," He felt as though he couldn't move as Sebastion made for the door.

"Then you will never see her again. Meet me tonight by the cliffs if you change your mind."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Rose cradled her arm and cuts from the glass window oozed blood. She had to warn Charles and anyone else at Lorebury that Sebastion would kill them all if he had to. The half days ride to the estate had turned into a day and a half walk, which went agonizingly slow with blood steadily dripping from the deep cuts and a twisted ankle from the craggy outcroppings that dotted the moors leading to the estate.

Upon entering town, Rose found the kind woman from the seamstress shop that had made her riding habits. The poor lady gasped at the bruised and battered appearance of the sliver of a woman that was Rose. When she inquired how she could help, Rose began to speak but quickly fainted from shock or as a result of her recent injuries. Neither woman knew which.

"I need to get to Lorebury! Everyone there is in danger of a very evil man." Rose coughed after sipping a small bit of tea. It had been the first bit of anything that she had eaten in several days and her body revolted and dispelled it.

"Take a rest deary, besides you'll not find Mr. Fyrmont there tonight. He went to the bank nearby and said he had a meeting tonight," The seamstress tried to soothe her, but her statement only caused Rose to stand quickly and rush out the door. Rose quickly hailed the blacksmith, of whom she knew owned a horse. The mammoth of a man, in seeing the lady in distress, quickly saddled the mare for her use. No one had ever seen a lady ride astride and so quickly down the dirt road.

Upon reaching Lorebury, Rose dismounted with a hiss as her arm twisted, agitating the still bleeding cuts, and pounded on the door. Mrs. Swift answered.

"Good Heavens! Miss Silksome how on ear-"

"I don't have time, where is Charles?!" She shouted, quite alarming Mrs. Swift.

"W-well he has gone to the seaside cliffs. Said he was meeting someone," The woman stuttered. The sky began to darken as Rose once again mounted the tired mare and spurred it on into a furious pace towards the cliffs. A large stone fence kept her from taking the mare any further towards the cliffs edge. She could just see the outline of two figures as she hurried through the break in the fence just big enough to let her through, and she ran towards them.

* * *

"I can't give it all, but I have a check for fifteen thousand pounds. That should be plenty." Charles spoke in a manner that he hoped would induce Sebastion to see reason. Sebastion stood only a few feet from the steep drop off into the sea, puffing on a cigar. The embers smoldered and filtered to the ground as he tapped it against his thigh.

"I am afraid it will not do Fyrmont," Sebastion said dryly. In the impenetrable darkness that was now upon them, Charles did not see the small derringer that Sebastion slid out from his suit jacket. "I want it all Fyrmont not a sliver."

"I cannot do tha-"

"Charles!" A voice sounded out of the darkness, and all at once a familiar warmth was at his arm.

"Rose?!" He grabbed both her shoulders and attempted to look at her face in the night, but she quickly turned her face away, using her long hair to cover her face.

"Not now Charles! What on earth are you doing! He is a mad man!" She hissed.

"Oh please darling you flatter me. Get over here or I will shoot your dear love here." Sebastion made sure they heard the click of the derringer. Charles felt Rose stiffen and a hitch in her breathing was the only sign h=of her panic. She drew away from Charles, even though he attempted to keep a tight grip on her shoulders, and slowly stumbled to the glowing ember of the cigar.

"That's a good girl." Sebastion snickered, "You have always been a good girl." Rose was only a few feet from him and she realized how close he stood to the cliffs edge. The spray of the sea sent shivers through her.

"Just take the fifteen thousand Sebastion, and let Rose go." Charles took a step closer.

"Oh I will let Rose go. But I'm afraid I've always been a jealous man. You shall not be leaving," Sebastion raised his arm, aiming for the outline of Charles. A sharp cry was heard, and Charles was left preparing himself for the inevitable shot, only to have everything go quiet. After a moment, a splash was heard from down below. Charles breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was Sebastion.

"Thank the heavens. Come Rose, let's go back to Lorebury. We have much to speak about." He sighed, rubbing his chilled hands together. When there was no reply, he called out again for her. Silence was the only reply he received. Understanding finally dawned on him and he rushed over and fell to the ground, peering over the cliff.

"Rose!" Nothing.

"Rose!"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The search began the next day. Everyone employed by Charles and everyone in town set about searching the shore lines for the bodies of Sebastion and Rose. A letter was sent to Wesley, who had not yet left his dying sister in London, to inform him about the recent events. Charles aided in searching, furiously pounding up and down the shore on his horse. They had taken a short break for lunch when Mrs. Swift approached Charles.

"It is a great shame what happened to the poor girl. Although I suppose she saved you didn't she sir?" She said in an innocent tone.

"Don't speak as though she assuredly is dead Mrs. Swift. She can't be." His voice cracked and he set down the small tea sandwich he had been nibbling. He had a pit in his stomach and the lingering feeling that all would not turn out well.

"Pardon me sir, but no one has ever survived that drop. And she was in a bad way already when I saw her." Mrs. Swift attempted to soothe and make him see reason at the same time. He turned haunted and hollow eyes to her before standing and brushing off his trousers.

"If that is truly the case then at least we could give her a burial don't you think? It is the least I could do after calling her a liar. She saved my life, Mrs. Swift. I need to do something." Charles set out, this time on foot, to search the shores again. He still felt the hollow pit in his stomach, different from the feeling of when Rose was merely missing, that had settled itself in the moment he realized that Rose had thrown herself into Sebastion to save him. Once again she had sacrificed something of herself, in this case her whole self, to help someone else.

"It's not fair." He muttered as he slowly made his way down the pebbled beach. The soft wavering of seaweed caught his attention and he found himself staring for a moment. It had a strange appearance, almost like…

"Lord please," Splashing closer to what he thought was seaweed, he realized it was hair. "Rose!?" At his cry, others that had helped him search came running. He waded in close enough to touch the hair and it was then that he saw Rose, almost every inch of visible skin bruised, one of her arms bent in an unnatural way. Charles quickly removed his coat and wrapped her in it, gingerly lifting her from the water, anxiously checking for any sign of life.

The others brought in a small stretcher, which had been provided by the doctor in the event that they actually did find Rose, and Charles set her down as if she were glass, once again checking for breathing. His heart lifted slightly when he saw a small puff of mist come from her mouth as her warm, albeit shallow breath pushed its way from her chest.

"She's alive," he could hardly believe his own eyes, "She's alive!"

The volunteers burst into surprised chatter, partly in shock and partly in complete disbelief. They were quickly directed to help transport her back to Lorebury, where the doctor would be summoned immediately.

As they slid the stretcher into the back of the wagon, a low moan immediately silenced them all. Charles was by her side in an instant. He brushed back her hair with a feather light touch, cringing when he felt the icy temperature of her skin.

"Shh, don't waste what strength you have," His voice broke, as did his heart when her eyes fluttered open for only a few precious moments, allowing him to see her pain, before they closed again and her body relaxed as she slipped from consciousness. He followed the open wagon closely back to the main house, fidgeting in his saddle at each small bump or pot-hole it passed over. He felt immense relief when it finally pulled up to the main door. Six of the men lifted her out of the wagon smoothly, Charles briskly showing them to one of the nicer guest rooms, holding the door opened as they carried her in and placed the stretcher on the bed.

"Get the doctor. NOW." Charles snapped. For once in his life he felt the initiative to take charge, the only regret was that he had not felt it sooner. If he had, then perhaps none of this would have happened. One of the men left to fulfill his command. Charles took his place in a wooden chair by the door, rubbing his face and scratching at the scruff on his cheeks. Rose had not woken again.

The doctor soon arrived and ushered Charles from the room, promising to keep him apprised of the situation. He paced in front of the door for an hour before pounding on the door.

"How is she!?" He shouted. The doctor inched open the door, blocking Rose from his view.

"She is not well sir,"

"I know that."

"Her left arm is broken, along with several ribs. I fear she has suffered some brain trauma. At this point I am not even sure she will wake up." The door once again closed in his face. For the first time in several years Charles visited his father's grave and wept.

* * *

Rose's injuries had been tended to, repaired to the best ability of the medicinal practices, yet still she did not wake. For two weeks Charles sat by her side, reading from books she had previously marked, and praying profusely. He had since informed Vivian and Jacob that she had been found, but that it was highly unlikely that she would ever wake. They sent a reply that they would return as soon as was physically possible.

"How is she today?" The doctor asked Charles one Sunday afternoon. Charles replied with the usual.

"Nothing new." The doctor nodded and set about checking the bruising and the broken bones. He relayed to Charles that her body was healing, slowly but surely, but that it was still quite uncertain if she would wake. The fact that she had been conscious, if only for a minute, was promising.

"If she is to wake, I would think it would be soon. Her body is healing and her pain should be quite minimal now. Of course I can guarantee nothing. The brain is a complex thing that we don't quite understand yet." The man had been saying the same thing for the past week. Charles thanked him and sent him on his way back to town. Mrs. Swift brought up some tea a few minutes later.

"You need rest sir. You're starting to look as pale as-"

"Merciful heavens," The mutter drew Charles to his feet in a shot, and he was at the bed in an instant.

"Rose?" He leaned over, seeing that her eyes were open. Her breathing quickened as she felt the tight bandages around her ribs.

"What's going on?" Her voice was raspy, as though her throat were raw.

"You pushed Sebastion off the cliffs. You fell with him."

"When?" She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Two weeks ago yesterday."

Her eyes widened and Charles began to panic as her eyes rolled back in her skull and her breathing seemed to stop all together.

"No, no!" He gently tapped her cheeks, shouting at her.

"Don't you leave me!" He shook her lightly, trying to wake her, "Mrs. Swift! Fetch the doctor, he can't have gone far!" He called out before turning back to Rose. Tears flung themselves down his cheeks.

"Come back to me."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Don't you dare leave me again!" Charles roared even as he held Rose's face gently in his palms, gently brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. He had no knowledge of how to revive her, and felt that familiar despair settle back into his gut. He would give anything to witness the small smile, or the slight quirk of her eyebrow over the dead calm that was the mask of her face.

The doctor burst through the door and once again shoved Charles out, but he called for Mrs. Swift to assist him. For the second time Charles was left to stare angrily at the door handle, listening in vain for conversation within. The doctor's voice came in muffled bursts, followed by the whispered words of the housekeeper. He stood for close to two hours before stalking to his study and acquiring a chair, dragging it back to the side hallway housing the room in which the woman he loved was dying, setting it next to the door, and flopping down into it with a huff.

Soon the words of those within lost their rushed tempo and instead held a slow fervor. Charles found the steady hum of muted speech tiring and eventually succumbed to the sleep he had denied himself for several weeks. His dreams alternated between pleasant memories of simple conversation with Rose, and flashes of how he imagined her fall had felt, how being incarcerated by Sebastion had been, and how she would hate and scorn him when she woke. If she woke.

A light tapping on his shoulder a few hours later dragged him from his slumber. His hands tingled while his legs struggled to keep him standing, having lost feeling down to his toes. His hair stood in small spiked in every direction from his constant fretting and running his fingers through its length. Mrs. Swift had the haggard look of exhaustion in her drawn face, but she smiled slightly as she pushed open the door. Charles glanced around the woman into the room and nearly collapsed.

The doctor sat on the edge of the bed holding a glass of water to Rose's lips. She was sitting up, laying against a mound of pillows placed behind her to assist her, though she still looked deathly pale. Her eyes swung to the door as Charles took a single step in, his face the epitome of relief and surprise.

"Charles." Her voice was hoarse and tired but filled Charles' heart with a swell of utter gratitude.

"Thank the Lord," He breathed as flung himself to his knees by her bedside. He grasped her right hand in both of his, the chill of her skin causing gooseflesh to raise on his arms, and bowed his head, staring at the floor, muttering for several minutes.

"Charles, whatever are you doing?" He glanced up to see her eyebrow raised at him. A groan escaped his throat and his lips were suddenly on hers, his palms holding her face. When he broke the kiss, Rose reminded herself to breathe.

"I thought you were dead," His voice was but a whisper, and he kept his face inches from hers, reveling in the sight of her blue green eyes assessing him. A dry chuckle followed by a cough was her first response.

"According to Mr. Brown here, I was. Something about fluid in the lungs or some such thing. Though I must admit that if that is what I receive upon waking, I should definitely perish more often," She coughed more forcefully this time, till her breath was drawn in with a wheeze. Charles cast a concerned look towards Mr. Brown.

"She will have a heavy cough for a few weeks sir. She had fluid in her lungs and her body will continue to try to expel what I could not pump out. On a positive note however, the rest of her injuries are healing admirably." The man was packing tubes and various instruments back into his back. He looked as though he had run for days without rest.

"Is there anything we can do or give her to help?" Charles sat on the edge of the bed, holding Rose's hand once more. His eyes were locked on the doctor.

"We can give her a tincture of lemon and honey,"

"I-"

"I assume that it is something Mrs. Swift can prepare?"

"Or we could just-"

"Yes, it is fairly simple, I can easily show her how."

"How about someone listens to the one that just-"

"Could you go show her that now?"

"Or we could-"

"Of course,"

"Or we could listen to the woman that almost drowned!" Rose shouted finally, startling both men. They looked at her in surprise. "I am allergic to lemon you patter brains. A peppermint tea will suffice Mrs. Swift. My father swore by it."

Mrs. Swift glared at both men and nodded to Rose before leaving.

"I would appreciate that when we are speaking of my condition, I am part of the discussion. I am irritated by the fact that you spoke as if I could not make my own decisions." Rose scowled at both men, each feeling chagrined in their own ways.

"My apologies Miss Silksome, I should have consulted you," Mr. Brown bowed his head. Charles looked to Rose to see her reaction, but looked back at the floor when her eyes were firmly set on his face, a disapproving look shot in his direction.

"I should not have attempted to make a decision for you. I am sorry. I was only anxious to help somehow." Charles muttered.

"It's De La Fleur, Mr. Brown. Not Silksome." Rose shifted away from Charles to look at the doctor.

"Very well. I will back tomorrow to see your progress Miss De La Fleur." And with that, the man left. Rose once again turned to Charles. She found him staring at her face intently.

"Merciful Heavens you are beautiful Rose," He whispered before grasping her hand and kissing it. Rose snorted then covered her mouth as more coughs racked her frame.

"You are a fool. I am barely alive according to the good doctor,"

"Yes, but you are alive and all the more beautiful for it." Charles looked at her intently and she blushed under his constant attention. She cleared her throat and tipped her head forward, sending her unruly hair in a wave to cover her face. She took a shaky breath in an attempt to regain her composure. An awkward pause proceeded her words.

"Charles, we need to have a serious discussion about something."

"And what is that darling?"

"I've decided to take my title again. I need to be seen somewhere public. I need you to contact my family attorney. It's time I become the Marchioness De La Fleur."


	19. Chapter 19

Surprise! I know, two chapters in one day.

Chapter 19

The De La Fleur attorney arrived a week later. Rose was still quite weak and coughed often. Charles had provided her with expensive gowns, refusing her offers to pay him back. She sat in the tidied up library in a deep blue silk gown across the desk from Mr. Ruckstin, who had almost fainted upon laying eyes on the only surviving member of the direct De La Fleur line.

"All of your inheritance and holdings are still in my care, and none of them have been touched. You are still the wealthiest woman in France. I can have control of the accounts transferred to you immediately." Mr. Ruckstin was still in awe. He had known Rose as a child and the composed, considerate, and logical thinking woman before him only resembled the spoiled, whining, simpering, mindless female he once knew in appearance. There was no denying that she was indeed Marchioness Rose De La Fleur.

"As much as I would like to control my own assets, I feel that I will not have sufficient time in the coming months. Please transfer control of holdings to a Mr. Oliver Greye in London. Include a letter about my history and that any choices involving the account must be signed off by me personally. I would also like my family's property in –shire cleaned and ready for my use by the end of the month." Rose commanded in a gentle tone. Ruckstin jotted down his mistress's orders.

"Can you trust this Mr. Greye? I have been with the family since before you were born." Mr. Ruckstin was desperately trying to save his position with a very influential person, though he knew he would do her bidding. It would be disastrous if he did not.

"I believe I can, thank you for your concern. I plan to stay on in England for an undetermined amount of time and I want my attorney accessible and not the journey of a week away." As Rose said this, Charles walked into the library carrying a steaming cup of tea.

"It's time for your tea Rose." He set the cup on the desk just as she began to protest, "Don't argue, you know it's for your own good."

Rose smiled reluctantly and took a tentative sip of the peppermint tea. She had found when she had awoken from her near death experience that she was tired of hiding. The man she feared was probably gone, and she wanted to take control of her life. She was tired of taking orders, but found that the constant care of Charles was something she could accept. She knew he had felt useless during her plight and that he now sought to make up for that by taking care of her in the simple ways. She found it endearing, though sometimes vexing.

"Thank you Charles. How goes finding a suitable gathering to announce the return of a Marchioness?" She twisted her neck, causing several bones to pop. She had been scanning over her own accounts for far too long.

"I think I found the perfect one. I think you might actually enjoy yourself." Charles said with a smug smile as he drew up a chair and sat next to her. She rolled her eyes and inquired as to what he had found.

"Well my dear," He smiled wickedly, "How does the homecoming of a recently married couple sound to you? It isn't the biggest event but the elite of London will be the-" He was interrupted by a squeal and the breath was forced out of him as she crushed him in a hug.

"Are they really coming back? Oh I have missed Viv. She knew about my being a Marchioness you know," She released him after a hissed complaint about air. He chuckled and gazed at her lovingly, though slightly vexed.

"When did you tell her?" He had a growing suspicion as he saw the embarrassment flood red into her cheeks and she twisted her fingers nervously. "Rose. When did you tell her?" He said more forceful.

"The first week she was here." The reply was so quite that Charles barely heard it. He could feel the anger simmer in his chest but he quickly suppressed it. They had not fought all week, which was a major accomplishment considering their past.

"That's alright I suppose," He breathed out, "You had to tell someone. Now, enough of being indoors, you need to take your walk." He scolded her again. The doctor had said three cups of tea and two walks out of doors a day. If it weren't for Charles, neither of those would happen.

"Very well. You may continue your work in her Mr. Ruckstin," She stood and took Charles arm, letting him lead her outside. Mr. Ruckstin watched the pair, shaking his head. He had felt a supreme awkwardness in watching their exchange. It should have been obvious to everyone that they adored each other, in what strange way they did.

"How are you feeling today?" Charles asked as they circled about in the gardens. Rose had ceased to get winded by the walks a few days ago, and she was beginning to regain some healthy color. Charles still worried that something might happen to cause her health to decline once more, and so went to studious efforts to inquire how she felt.

"I am feeling much better Charles, thank you." Rose stopped walking, causing Charles to turn to face her. "Tell me about your family. Please."

The request stunned him momentarily. Neither of them had ever discussed their family, and in truth he didn't know where to start.

"I-there really isn't much to say. My mother was a merchant's daughter from Ireland, My father the Earl of Lorebury. They met during my mother's first season in London. They married a year later. I actually had an older brother. He died when he was two though, and I was but a few months old. My mother was so heartbroken, and I believe that is what killed her. She simply lost the will to live, regardless of the family she still had. My father raised me on his own. He died just four years ago, on the same day that my mother had. Lorebury was left to me and I have lived a dull life until my estate scholar died and I had to go hire a new one." It sounded like a story that had been told several times over among the hierarchy.

"Oh Charles I'm sorry. I am sure your mother loved you just as much as your brother," R[se rested her hand on his arm.

"What about you? What memories have you of your family?" It did not surprise him when it took her several minutes to reply. He could tell by her pained expression that she was sorting through all the unpleasantness of the last few years. Slowly, a small smile chased away the worried creases on her forehead.

"I am an only child. I never had any siblings," She took his arm again and they resumed walking, "My father doted upon me. Got me whatever my little heart desired, even if he knew it would do me no good. When I was about seven, I wanted a horse more than anything. My mother, intelligent woman that she was, felt that it was a bad idea. My father bought a pony that I named Khafre. I learned to ride quickly but I have always been stubborn. My mother told me never to jump until Khafre was full grown. I didn't listen." Charles chuckled, earning a severe look from Rose. "Anyway, I ended up breaking Khafre's leg. I was so distraught that I cried for days. My father tried to console me, saying it was a minor break and that she would be fine. My mother explained what had happened and how I had been at fault. Because of that the voice of reason in my head has always been my mother."

Her small smile grew slightly as she recalled another memory.

"They argued for weeks after that whether or not to let me ride again. My father caved and allowed it."

Charles drew Rose closer, placing his hand over hers as it rested on his arm. She smiled up at him and they finished their walk in companionable silence. Both felt that the wall that had caused such contention was finally gone and they both could speak candidly, and they no longer found pointless reasons to argue.

After the small turn about the gardens, Rose disappeared to the kitchen to talk with the cooks, while Charles went to his study to arrange transportation to London for the unveiling of the returned Marchioness. As her wrote a letter to rent out a few draft horses for his carriage, his mind went unbidden as it usually did to Rose.

She had changed in the time she had been away. She never averted her eyes when he looked at her as she used to. Her voice was still strong and calm, but she spoke at a volume in which everyone could hear and she spoke with a new found authority. He found the change refreshing, and reassuring.

Rose, after speaking with the cooks about bringing her a pot of tea, returned to the lavished room she now resided in. She reflected on how Charles had appeared when she first saw him after her "death". He had been unkempt and almost savage looking. She wondered if it was just her absence that had caused this unprecedented change. Charles had always been completely proper in everything, and had even chastised her in the few moments she had behaved in ways that had been anything but appropriate. She wondered if it was because he loved her, as they had confessed to each other before she left with Sebastion. Little did she know that Charles had turned his thought to the same subject.

He felt the strangest thrill in his chest every time he saw her. Everything about her, even the irritating way she argued with him about silly thing, he found attractive. He found himself staring at her when they were together, and he felt certain that he now wore the same look that Jacob did when he looked at Vivian. He had to admit, if only to himself that he was inexplicably in love with Rose De La Fleur. Rose admitted to herself that she was in love with Charles as well. The main question on the minds of both nobles was if their new found relationship could last the upcoming trials.


	20. Chapter 20

I apologize profusely for my lack of updating. Between work and writers block I have been having a hard time finding even a few minutes to write. With that sad, without further ado...

* * *

Chapter 20

She didn't know what to write. She sat at her desk staring at the small piece of parchment before her, tapping her pen against her lip. Words flew through her mind but none would stick, none would form viable sentences to convey any sort of specific meaning.

"I give up." Rose finally huffed and rested her head on the desk. She had been attempting to write a letter to Vivian and Jacob, explaining her plan to finally claim her title at their return ball, if it was approved by them of course. She didn't want to take anything away from them. She turned her head till her cheek was flush against the wood as the door to the library opened.

"I knew I would find you here. Have you had your tea yet?" Charles entered and placed his palms on the desk, leaning over to kiss Rose's cheek. She sighed and rolled her eyes, slowly sitting back up.

"No," She rested her face on her elbow, "I haven't the time Charles. I only have a week to prepare myself before the ball. And besides, I am perfectly fine," Charles raised his eyebrow as she coughed heavily.

"You aren't very convincing my dear," He shook his head before calling out for Mrs. Swift, who promptly entered with a tea tray, "You won't get better if you don't follow the doctors instructions! And I need you to recover fully."

Rose snorted and stood, arching her back, and gave Charles a wry smile.

"So it is purely selfish. Lovely." She muttered sarcastically, causing Charles to grin widely. He took a step closer and kissed her forehead before sweeping an unruly curl from it.

"Completely selfish Darling." He laughed as she raised her brow, "Now drink your tea, I have something I want to show you."

Rose watched as Charles left the library, a small bounce in his step. Shaking her head she picked up the small cup of tea and sipped at it. It succeeded in calming her nerves as well as her cough. It had been three years since she had had a title of any sort, and now she was claiming her birthright. In a short week she wouldn't be able to go anywhere without someone recognizing her as the Marchioness De La Fleur. Her anonymity would be shattered like a fallen vase, and she would have no true peace again. She could already feel the social expectations, the endless invitations, and suffocating propriety begin to close in on her. Only she knew the true reason that she was at last claiming the title.

Setting down the cup, she drifted out of the library to find Charles. Just outside the door she found Mrs. Swift cleaning a table and portrait. She sent the woman a sympathetic smile. She had once been in the same position, but she had to admit that she would miss the simplicity of being of the working class.

"Do you know where Charles went Mrs. Swift?" she asked. She had noticed that the servants no longer started or gaped when she addressed their master by his Christian name, and she figured they had just grown accustomed to it. After the several events of the last few months, she felt it a waste of time to call him by Mr. Fyrmont. He called her Rose so she felt it appropriate considering. Not to mention what a mouthful Miss De La Fleur would be to call out anytime he wished to summon her or speak with her.

"I believe he is in his study Miss." The woman replied in a clipped tone.

Rose nodded her thanks and proceeded down the hall to the study. Upon entering she found it empty but for a maid. She took a minute to glance around the room. It was cozy and had that distinctly male scent that was so foreign yet comforting to her.

"Do you know where Charles is?" Rose addressed the maid, who turned quickly, almost knocking over the vase she had been dusting.

"He said he had to go check on something in the garden Miss." The girl went back to her chores. Rose scowled. For wanting to show her something, Charles was proving very difficult to find. She rubbed her arm as she made her way out to the rose garden. Upon reaching the small bench at the entrance to the garden, she saw no one but a stable hand.

"Excuse me but do you know where-" She stopped short as the stable hand turned around, "Wesley!?" She flung herself at him, keeping her arm in mind, to embrace him.

"Well don't you look like a pretty little lady Miss Rose," Wesley smiled his crooked smile as he pushed Rose to an arm length away to look at her. Rose laughed. She had missed this man. They had become good friends in the time Charles had been in London.

"Thank you Wesley, how is your sister?" Rose asked, gesturing for them to sit on the stone bench. Wesley waved her off.

"Later Miss Rose. Charles is waiting for you in the library." Wesley smiled and lightly shoved Rose back in the direction of the house. Rose shot him a confused look before making her way back inside the estate. Upon reaching the library she pushed open the door to see Charles, in his best suit, fidgeting nervously.

"Did you have to send me on that wild goose chase?" She said as she neared him. He smiled nervously at her.

"Yes actually I did. Plus Wesley wanted to see you." His voice was soft and he was inspecting her face intently.

"I am glad he is back. What did you want to show me?" She smiled as he fidgeted with his jacket. She watched his face as he took her hand in both of his. Her heart beat sped up and she could feel the air escape her as he bent on one knee.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_Three days earlier_

Charles had his horse saddled and he headed into town, despite the downpour. Something had changed that day that had opened a new door for him. Rose had said she wanted to claim her title, be the Marchioness De La Fleur,and that meant it was socially acceptable to ask her the question that had been weighing down his thoughts for the entire time she had been back.

Upon reaching the town, he headed immediately to the local bank on main street, asking to open a secure box he had. After a few minutes the clerk brought out a small metal lock box, to which only Charles had the key. He quickly opened it and extracted the particular item he sought. He then returned to Lorebury in such a rush that he did not notice the figure in the shadow of the bank.

* * *

He held his breath as he searched Rose's face.

"I am glad he is back. What did you want to show me?" She smiled sweetly at him and it caused him to adjust his jacket. After taking her hand in both of his, he knelt down on one knee and pulled the ring from his pocket. It was a simple gold band with three small rubies inlaid. A gasp escaped her lips and his gaze was drawn once more to her face. Tears began to well up in her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Rose….Oh...um...I don't know your middle name..." He said, embarrassed. Rose laughed slightly.

"Vee."

"Rose Vee De La Fleur, You have brought me to life and I long to spend the rest of my days with you. You have become each breath and it is agonizing to be parted from you. I loved you before the knowledge of your title and your wealth, I only want you for the utter happiness you have brought into a life I did not know was so dull and menial an existence. End this torment, end my agony and consent to be my wife." Emotion almost choked him, and his planned speech had flown out the window. He watched her face as unknown thoughts flashed through her eyes, and her drawn face slowly pulled into a smile.

"I guess I had better move into my property in -shire immediately." Her voice was only just above a whisper. Charles stood, eyebrows furrowed, clasping both her arms in his hands.

"Why? I thought-"

"Because it would not do to have your fiance living under your roof," She only managed a small smile before Charles crushed her to him in a tight hug. He let out a haggard breath in relief and she chuckled slightly when he tightened his hold, kissing the top of her head.

"I thought you were saying no." Was all he said in explanation. She pushed slightly away from him and placed both of her hands on his cheeks. Her cool skin caused him to shiver.

"You are the only reason I am claiming my title. I don't want it, I only want that it will afford me the opportunity to be your wife." She kissed him gently before holding out her left hand, which shook ever so slightly.

Holding her wrist in his whole hand, he slid the ring onto her finger, surprised when it fit perfectly. The simple band seemed perfect for her.

"It was my father's first gift to my mother." Charles explained, taking both of her hand in his own and drawing her close. A cough suddenly drew their attention and both darted looks at the door to see Wesley leaning casually against the doorframe.

"I just get back and already I have to organize the packing of a wealthy womans belongings. Wherever am I to find the time to arrange that, plus the carriage needed to take her to her house, let alone beginning wedding preparations!?" He sighed dramatically. Rose beamed at him and looked back at Charles.

"I really do need to leave. Wesley, can I be ready to go by morning?" She couldn't wipe the fools grin from her face. Wesley looked up at the ceiling as if to glean some form of consolation or advice from its plain surface.

"Not even married and you already boss me around, but yes. We can have you ready to leave by morning." Wesley smiled and shook his head, "I'm back for a day."

* * *

"I am loathe to see you go my love." Charles kissed Rose's gloved hand as he handed her up into the carriage. She had worn a deep purple silk, with a tasteful traveling hat and parasol, the dark color drawing all light towards her.

"I will see you next week Charles. Besides, maybe my absence will remind you how much trouble I am. You may not want me once you realize how peaceful your life will be without me," She chuckled slightly, but in her heart it was something that she truly feared.

Charles scowled and pulled her from the carriage, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Nothing can or will change my mind Rose. Nothing." He said in a quiet, almost deadly voice. She was taken aback at the vehemence in his tone, "Don't you EVER doubt me Rose. Don't."

"Alright. I won't." She said meekly. Charles placed her back in the carriage and shut the door, standing on the step so he could lean in the window.

"Promise me."

"I promise." He left her with a chaste peck on the cheek and he stood on the main steps as her carriage pulled away, heading to the coast.

* * *

Rose fidgeted in the carriage for the entirety of the trip. She had not been to this property since she was eleven and her parents had brought her here in the summer. The house came into view early the next morning, the sun just peaking over the roof. The walls had been faded by the sea air, leaving them a dull gray, but the windows were clean and new, the gardens well maintained, and a fleet of servants waited at the door to greet their mistress.

A footman helped her from the carriage, and the housekeeper introduced herself as a Mrs. Maclain. Rose stood in front of the two lines of servants, trying desperately to remember what her mother would say to them. It was expected that the Master or Mistress address the servants upon arrival. She tugged at her white gloves and finally looked over each member of her staff.

"Until recently, I worked as estate manager. I know the difficulties of running an estate, and I understand if you harbor any trepidation, as I am new to you. I am easy to please. Bring me my tea at the times I set ahead and leave me in general peace and I will be satisfied. WHich of you is to be my lady's maid?" A slim girl stepped forward, head bowed. Pale blonde hair stuck out from under her cap, and freckles dotted her face.

"What is your name?"

"Anamaret Miss." Came the quiet reply. The manner of the servants all mirrored Anamaret's. Quiet, and head bowed with eyes glued to the ground. This did not sit well with her.

"Right. My first command for all of you is that you must never look to the floor in my presence. You will not face the wall if I walk passed. You will speak at the volume of which you normally would. Really I am not any better than you. By the end of the week I hope to know you by name and face. Therefore I can't have you hiding the latter from me. Anamaret, come with me." She turned and immediately went to the room she remembered her parents sleeping in. It was at the end of a long hallway upstairs. She paused as she grasped the brass handles on the double doors. With a deep breath she entered the room. The furnishings were all white, giving the room a clean and aired out feel, and a small breakfast already lay on the small table.

"Do you wish to change miss?" Anamaret asked, her voice stronger than it had been outside.

"Yes. I believe some of my clothes have arrived in advance. Something light, please." Anamaret bowed and disappeared into the hall where a few of the trunks sat. She returned with a muted pastel lavender gown. "Lovely choice."

After changing, Rose entered the room she knew to be an office. Oliver Greye sat at the desk looking over ledgers.

"Mr. Greye." Was all she said to announce her presence. He shot up from his chair, looking as disheveled as ever, and he offered a small bow.

"Lady De La Fleur. I hope your travels went well." He smiled slightly when she gestured for him to sit.

"I trust you have the letters I asked for? Mr. Ruckstin should have had them sent."

"Yes, all of them have arrived. Might I ask why you need them?" Oliver barely caught the flicker of irritation that crossed her features.

"I have a feeling I will need them." She paused, seemingly dwelling on dark thoughts before turning her gaze to Oliver. "I need you to arrange for transportation to London in four days time. Did you receive a confirmation notice for the meeting I requested?"

"Yes my lady. It is set for the time you requested. Is there anything else?"

"No. Thank you Mr. Greye. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go enjoy a beautiful coastline that I just happen to own."

* * *

A/N This story is now being posted on Wattpad as well, under the title Gilded Lies. I will still post here


	22. Chapter 22

_I did not feel right about the previous version of this chapter. I needed more cutesy between my main peeps, so I hope you enjoy. Please review_

Chapter 22

London rose from the night like a towering goliath, the light and sound bringing to edge Charles' nerves. Tonight two very important announcements would be made, and both could end disastrously. A reputable French aristocrat had been invited, expressly of confirming Rose as the Marchioness De La Fleur, along with several of the peerage of England to be witness to the announcement of their engagement. Rose's uncle, Mr. Silksome, had been invited as well as he was, in effect, her guardian.

Jacob and Vivian had felt no resentment in the pair utilizing their party for their needs, they had in fact insisted on it. Vivian had received the simple and straightforward letter from Rose explaining what she needed. The arrangements had immediately been seen to. Vivian had practically jumped out the window in an effort to make the evening perfect for Rose and Charles.

Jacob met Charles at the door, through which he bounded, laughing at the sudden energy in his friend.

"Contain yourself man! It is almost indecent how happy you look," Jacob clapped him on the back as the valet took Charles' coat.

"I can't help it," He beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and slapping his glaves against his thigh.

"I am so thrilled for you Charles, really. It is about time you find someone that makes you feel like Vivian makes me feel."

"I have never felt it's likeness before Jacob. It's...intoxicating." His face felt fit to burst with smiling, "Can I see her? I saw her carriage, so she must be here." He took to glancing up the stairs every few moment. He pushed Jacob out of his way and bolted halfway up the stairs when steps sounded in the adjoining hallway. He deflated noticeably and gave Vivian, to whom the steps had belonged, a sheepish grin.

"You don't get to see her till the announcement Charles Fyrmont, so you just go in the ballroom and enjoy yourself as best you can till then." Vivian directed him to the doors and pushed him inside the room. The crier asked how he should be announce.

"Lord Charles Fyrmont, Earl of Lorebury." The crier announced as Charles stepped further into the room. A few eyes turned to him, as he was not known to be in society often, but the majority ignored him. He was but an Earl to the many Marquises and Dukes that littered the room, their wives hanging on their arms. The sight of the peerage and the small quarters of the room did nothing but enhance the sense of urgency and panic currently fluttering in Charles' breast. The air had a charge that spoke to everyone there that something was about to occur, that they were merely teetering on the edge of a catastrophe or a great event.

The Mr. and Mrs. Eames soon joined their guests and accepted the many felicitations for a long and prosperous marriage. No one need imply that they wished for love to enter the union, for it was so painfully apparent that it was already there. Many of the women in attendance were green with envy of Vivian's situation. Charles moved forward to add his own congratulations but he was interrupted before he even began.

"Only a few more minutes Charles! We have a french aristocrat just like you asked. She should be able to confirm the identity of dear little Rose." Jacob pulled him aside, to a small clearing in the mass of people with an excellent view of the door.

"Who is she?"

"I am not sure, you would have to ask Viv. She found her. She assured me though that the woman had known Rose when her family was still alive." The conversation halted as the doors opened, the crier leaning down to hear how to properly address the newest guest.

"The Marchioness Rose De La Fluer of France."

The woman that entered was a vision. The creamy silk gown had the smallest of green embroidery curving its way to the floor, down the full skirt that only accentuated the pleasant figure of the wearer. Matching green gloves complimented the pale skin of her arms, and her curling hair was pinned to keep the majority of it out of her face, but a few small ringlets had been left to frame her face. Her dark eyebrows had that customary quirk in them as she heard the whispers of those that had some knowledge of the misfortune of the De La Fleur family. Charles made his way over to take her arm and lead her to the front of the room. Jacob and Vivian followed, calling the attention of the entire room.

"My dear friends," Jacob projected his voice throughout the room, "I have the keenest pleasure of welcoming you all here tonight. I have agreed, on behalf of my closest friends, to stand in place of their parents. I am proud to make the announcement of the engagement of Lady Rose De La Fleur to my best friend, Lord Charles Fyrmont."

A wave of gasps collapsed over them as Jacob placed Rose's hand on Charles'. Many women practically wept at the lost chance of pairing their daughters with one of the most eligible bachelors in England. The men shook their heads at the loss of another rich woman they could have whiled away their charms on.

"They seem quite distraught at the loss of you for their daughters," Rose spoke through her teeth, causing Charles to bow his head to hide his laughter.

"You should see the glares the men in the back are shooting me. It is more than likely the loss of their opportunity to woo you," He covered her hand that rested on his arm with his own. Her sky smile only served to prove that she knew little of her own beauty. "You really should know how beautiful you are."

"Stop it Charles, I am not marrying you for the flattery."

"It is only flattery when it is not true my dear," Charles whispered in her ear as he drew her to the middle of the room, sweeping her into the waltz that had begun, "I plan to spend the rest of my life convincing you of how beautiful you are."

"You will fail on that front. Tis not a war to be fought."

"I will fight that war for you."

"You will do no such thing," Rose scolded, "It is utterly ridiculous and is bound to last till your last breath."

"Then it is fortuitous that am afforded that exact length of time then isn't it, love?" Rose responded with a scoff, but was content when Charles drew her closer to his chest. They passed the evening pleasantly, mingling with well wishers and expressing their mutual dislike of society in the few moment to themselves.

There was a collective sigh of relief as the last few guests departed and the four stood in the foyer.

"That went rather well if I do say so myself." Jacob smiled as the door shut. He drew Vivian to his side and they both turned eyes to the other two.

They stood face to face, Charles looking down lovingly at Rose. Rose clutched at his lapels when his arms encircled her waist, gently pulling her against him. They had shared a private joke and both attempted to smother their laughter, Rose pressing her face into his shoulder.

"I believe you owe me twenty pounds my love," Vivian smirked at Jacob.

"I believe I do. Tell me Viv, how did you know their feelings, even before they seemed to?"

"It is simple. She thought herself inadequate for him, and he could never keep his eyes off her, even when he was occupied with Elaine." Vivian shrugged.

"How is Elaine?" Jacob scowled. He had not heard any new of her since they returned to London.

"She met a baron at the ton while we were gone. My parents are keeping her within easy calling distance of him." Vivian responded only half involved, as she was fixed on the others. "They really do look perfect together."

Jacob smiled to see everyone he cared about so happy. It brought him joy to see unfathomable love in Charles' eye, and to have the look mirrored in Rose's.

"They definitely deserve some small measure of happiness do they not? She has been used ill, and he deserved someone that cares for him as she so obviously does."

At this point, Rose could barely keep her eyes open. The warm of Charles' embrace mixed with the gentle swaying was quickly putting her to sleep. With an extreme effort she pushed herself from his shoulder.

"You look tired. I think it is time you retire my love," Charles smiled, briefly caressing her cheek.

"I will admit I am exhausted. I will regretfully separate from you and indeed retire," She blinked a long blink.

"If you must,"

"You know I must, now let me go." She smiled and pushed against his arms. He whimpered and pulled her closer.

"Just a little longer." His response drew her laughter.

"You are like a child! I will see you in the morning, but I must go!" Again she pushed against him and he reluctantly released her. As she ascended the stairs he caught her gloved hand and placed a quick kiss on the top.

"Till morning then." He watched as she disappeared into the east wing of the home.

"And I thought we were love struck Jacob," Vivian snickered at the display. Charles turned to look at them with embarrassment etched on his features.

"Don't worry old boy, I have been in your place." Jacob's sympathetic tone was lost in the boisterous laughter that proceeded him and his wife as they also disappeared into the east wing. Charles was left to wander to the end of the west wing to his own room.

After his valet undressed him and laid out the clothes he desired for the next day, Charles found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling. He thought of how his life would be at Lorebury, with a wife at his side, and it scared him when he could not see it.


	23. Chapter 23

_I apologize for so long a gap in updates, between work and deciding where to go with this, it has been awhile._

* * *

Chapter 23

"This is insane Viv!" Rose was utterly overwhelmed by the mass of fabrics and jewels that lay scattered on the bed before her.

"Welcome to the week before the wedding." Was the clipped reply, "What fabric do you want draped over the arch? And do you want the pearl necklace or the diamonds?" Vivian stood with one hand on her hip and the other rubbing her chin in contemplation. Rose simply stared wide eyed at her, completely at a loss. She had no idea so much went into a wedding. She just want to marry the man that filled every thought and was the reason for almost any action.

"You're right. I'll just pick," Vivian muttered decisively.

"As long as that is alright with her darling," Jacob poked his head in the room, laughing at the contrast of the two. Vivian knew what went into the planning and she had very pointed ideas about how it should look, while Rose looked as lost as a fish on land. Vivian fluttered her hand at him before whispering under her breath about satin or silk. Rose shot a pleading look to Jacob.

"Oh, Charles is looking for you Rose. I believe he is downstairs."

Rose shot down the stairs, directly into Charles' arms. She was met with a deep chuckle.

"Oh really now?" He held her to his chest, smoothing her hair.

"I hate planning."

"I know love. Just think though, in a six days times we will never have to be parted every again."

"And I eagerly await the day."

The day had arrived. Rose awoke feeling giddy and nervous, anxiously dressing in the elaborate wedding gown, A maid pinning her hair into manageable and elegant curls. She took a deep breath as she opened the door to the hallway to make her way to the carriage, but soon lost all ability to breathe as she fell to her knees. On the wall in dripping scarlet letters, were words that could only confirm her greatest fear.

_ Come and find him, My Darling._

Sebastion was alive.

* * *

_This story is not done yet. I will be continuing in a "Book 2" the first chapter should be up within the week. Look for "To Deaths Door"_


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